


Rainbow Capitalism

by Eggpants



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Comedy, LGBT, Multi, Pride, it's literally stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 44,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggpants/pseuds/Eggpants
Summary: Ancap's desperate to tap into the LGBTQ+ market, but he can't do it without the help of Post-Left. Of course, nothing is ever so simple.
Relationships: Libcap, Libunity, implied past left unity
Comments: 64
Kudos: 138





	1. The Beginning (Of The End)

Money is a social construct. Just like gender and race, it was only created for the purposes of oppression. The truth of the matter is that money is just a series of slips of paper and little metal circles that somehow society had allotted the power to determine life or death. It was all so laughable, really, how everyone just went along with it unquestioningly. 

All of this, of course, didn’t change the fact that rent was due and Post-Left’s pockets were as empty as the heads of the people who supported this capitalist system.

Since qui had left the Centricide six months ago, it had been difficult to make ends meet. Being a cashier at Walmart didn’t exactly pay well. All it did was suck away quis soul day by day, chipping away like greenhouse gases emitted by the factories which produced everything in this stupid store destroying the ozone layer. Qui could always get another job, but with quis qualifications, quis only choices were the Burger King down the street and the iHop which had recently started hiring, both of which qui somehow suspected wouldn’t be much better than what qui had now. 

The man outside knocked on his door for the third time. “I know you’re in there. I've come to collect your rent. Open up!”

Post-Left was currently crouched under the kitchen table with all the lights turned out. This was an art qui was very experienced in, but lately, qui had been having to do it more and more often. Qui knew if qui couldn't come up with the money by the end of the week, qui would be at risk of eviction, and then qui didn’t know where qui would go. More than likely qui would have to beg and plead with quis parents to let quem live with them. Even if they allowed quem, there was no doubt qui would be forced back into the closet; they would never accept quem as nonbinary. Qui could rejoin the Centricide team, but that seemed even worse than homelessness.

Qui waited a few more minutes until qui heard quis landlord’s car drive away before finally getting up. Qui peeked out of the window just to be sure he was gone, then turned the lights back on. Almost immediately after qui had done so, quis phone rang. Qui ignored it; qui knew it was probably quis landlord. Nobody else ever called quem. It was kind of sad really, qui didn’t have very many friends. Or any, really. The only people qui ever talked to were quis coworkers and various users in left-wing forums online. It was a poor substitute for genuine friendship, but there just weren’t many like-minded anarchists in quis community. They’d all been brainwashed by capitalist propaganda - the old “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” types - and they rarely even respected quis pronouns.

Quis phone buzzed again - a text message. It had been sent by an unknown number, so qui opened it up. 

_Hello Ancom. This is your old friend Ancap. I tried to call you but you didn’t pick up. I know it’s been a while, but I have a business proposal for you. Text me back if you’re interested._

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Well?” asked Libertarian. 

“He didn’t respond,” sighed Ancap. “He never was the businessman type anyways, so I guess it’s not-”

Before he could even finish the sentence, Ancap’s ring tone, which had been set to “I Want To Die In A War”, began playing. Although he had left the Centricide, he still had to admit Jreg’s songs were bangers. He picked up the call and put it on speaker phone so Libertarian could hear everything.

“Ah yes, Ancom, I knew you would be interested in this incredible opportunity.”

“First of all, my name's not Ancom anymore, it's Post-Left."

"Of course. Post-Left it is, if that will be better for our business relations."

"Yeah whatever. Look, just tell me what you want already."

Libertarian gave Ancap a look, as if to say 'are you sure you want this guy?'

"Well, I'm sure you've heard already, but about four months ago I left the Centricide to pursue a project of my own, a city called Ancapistan. Now as you probably know, Pride Month is just around the corner, and my business associates and I have decided it would be profitable to market towards the L...G...B… well whatever it's called. I figured who better to help us with this campaign than a real life member of the community."

"Fuck rainbow capitalism. Also, aren't you married to that Libertarian guy?"

"Well yes, but it's strictly for tax reasons. How did you find out about that anyway??”

“Word gets around.”

“I see. Well, anyways, the point is, you could provide a far more genuine perspective which will help us connect with this demographic."

"I dunno Ancap, it kind of sounds like you want to exploit an already oppressed minority for profit without any meaningful activism or support for the LGBTQ+ community."

"Why An- I mean, Post-Left, I would never do something like that. As a matter of fact, we've made the decision to donate 10% of our profits to The Trevor Project for this month. Where's the exploitation in that?"

"Every penny of profit you make is stolen from your workers."

"Well Post-Left, if you're not interested, I'll be more than happy to find someone else." Post-Left was the only queer person Ancap knew, but he wasn't about to let quem know that. Well, except maybe Tankie, but he was too much of a closet case to be of any use. "I wouldn't want to waste your time after all…" 

Qui suddenly remembered quis rent situation. "Let's just say I was interested. What would be in it for me?"

"Oh, not much," Ancom said, grinning. "Just a luxury suite in our private mansion and a position on our Board of Diversity."

The timing couldn't possibly be better. It was much too capitalistic for quis taste, but it was either this or starvation, so qui swallowed quis pride. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Excellent. I knew we could count on you to accept our offer. We can work out our contract tomorrow. Does 11:00 work for you?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Perfect. See you tomorrow!" With no further explanation, Ancap hung up.

"What were we thinking? That guy doesn't seem professional at all," remarked Libertarian, shaking his head. “You know, we probably could have launched our ad campaign ourselves.”

Ancap sighed. "What would we know about the gays? I know he can be difficult to work with sometimes, but he’ll just have to do. At least he’s not a statist."

“Yeah, I guess so.”


	2. The Speed Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Left is thrown into the deep end before qui even gets started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever played speed, you know what im talking about

At 11 AM sharp, Post-Left was awoken by the sound of some sort of engine. Though qui had set quis alarm for 10:00, qui had slept through it as usual. In quis opinion, waking up before noon was a spook. Qui looked outside and saw that a private jet had landed just outside, painted in the customary yellow and purple color scheme of Ancap. Qui hadn't known what to expect, but it definitely wasn't this. Qui rushed outside, completely forgetting that qui was still in quis pyjamas. Ancap, Libertarian, and Minarchist stepped out to meet quem.

Ancap chuckled upon seeing quis appearance. "Did we interrupt your beauty rest?"

Qui looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, I kind of slept in, do you want me to go change?"

Libertarian opened his mouth, but Minarchist stopped him. "No, don't worry about it. We all make mistakes sometimes."

Ancap looked at his watch. "Yes, yes, he's right. Come along, Post-Left, we're going to give you a quick tour of Ancapistan before discussing your contract. However I do have a meeting at 1, so I can't afford to waste too much time. Oh, and by the way, these are Libertarian and Minarchist, in case you hadn’t met before."

They both shook quis hand before they loaded up into the private jet. Qui had never been in a regular plane before, let alone something this luxurious. Even the air felt expensive. The other three took their seats at a table where they had clearly been playing poker. Off to the side there was a bar filled with exotic liquor. Even the ice cubes at the bar, which were filled with gold flakes, were probably worth more than quis entire $5 net worth.

"Come, have a seat," Ancap beckoned, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. Post-Left slowly walked over, taking in everything before sitting down.

"Do you play poker, Post-Left?" asked Minarchist as he shuffled the cards. Libertatian took a sip of whatever drink he had gotten.

Qui fidgeted uncomfortably. He did know how to play, but he didn't exactly have any money to gamble. He already felt their judging eyes gazing down on him.

"Oh yes, I used to play with him all the time back when we were living in the centricide house," said Ancap before qui had time to respond.

"It's qui/quem, you know."

Libertarian rolled his eyes, and Ancap shot him a look. "My apologies."

"Anyways, we're playing Texas Hold Em. Who's going to be dealer?"

"A-actually I would prefer if we played a different game," Post-Left said nervously.

"Alright, let's play Blackjack then," suggested Libertarian.

"What about… uh… crazy eights?"

Libertarian spat out his drink, and the other two began laughing. “You sure are a funny guy, Post-Left,” said Minarchist.

"Yeah, I haven't played that since I was thirteen. I hardly even remember the rules!" added Ancap.

"I-it wasn’t a joke,” stuttered Ancom, now more self-conscious than before. Here qui was, sitting in a gold-plated luxurious private jet with a group of billionaires in quis embarrassing Star Wars pyjamas, broker than the streets of Ancapistan. Qui had never felt so out of place. “I just don’t really like to gamble.”

Much to quis surprise, they didn’t laugh at quem, although qui could still sense Libertarian judging quem a little. A look of understanding passed across Ancap’s face. “As you wish. What about a Speed tournament?” he smirked. The name alone was enough to strike fear into Post-Left’s heart, but there was no backing down now. The favorite pastime of any bored Calculus class after an exam had made its way up the ranks of prestige. 

“Ancap, are you sure?” quivered Minarchist. “I don’t know if qui’s ready for-”

“Nonsense, Minarchist,” interrupted Libertarian, a mischievous look in his eyes. “I can play Ancap, and you play the leftist. The winners will go against each other in the grand finale.”

The adrenaline pulsed through Post-Left’s veins as Minarchist laid the cards out on the table. Qui could already tell by the tremble in his hands that he was inexperienced at Speed. Perhaps Libertarian had rigged the matches so that qui would get crushed in the championship round; qui suspected he and Ancap were both speed demons when it came to cards. And if that wasn’t enough, they undoubtedly had a few aces up their sleeves. Qui picked up the first five cards from the top of his deck. There was nothing abnormal about this hand, but who knew what was about to unfold. He looked up at Minarchist, who was organizing his cards.

“The order is J, Q, K, A, just as a refresher. Jokers count as any number you want.” Post-Left gulped, and Libertarian smiled more. “Oh, and Post-Left - no same-number stacking.”

With that, the two players turned over their respective cards and began the match. As expected, Minarchist wasn’t nearly assertive enough during the round, and qui managed to gain an early lead. As quickly as Minarchist had gone through his first hand, Post-Left was already on quis third. He was fast, but qui was faster, slapping down quis own cards before Minarchist even had a chance. As expected, it was a landslide victory for Post-Left.

“Well played, friend,” said Minarchist, offering his hand. Qui shook it vigorously, pumped up from the thrill of the battle qui had just won. But the war wasn’t over yet, as qui was quickly reminded.

“Now it’s time for the adults to show you how it’s done,” grinned Libertarian, shuffling the deck. Ancap cracked his knuckles and took off his shades. It was about to get serious. “May the best man win.”

As soon as the cards were flipped, the Speed arena became a mad blur. Post-Left could scarcely see who had the upper hand as the two capitalists tore through their decks at a breakneck pace. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on Ancap’s forehead, and Libertarian’s teeth were clenched hard. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. But as quickly as it had begun, it seemed, it was already over. Ancap had emerged victorious by a one-card margin.

“Good game,” muttered Libertarian, clearly a little miffed that he had lost the match. He extended a sweat-drenched hand to Ancap, who shook it with pride. 

“Well, Post-Left, are you ready?” Ancap asked, wiping away his sweat with a napkin.

This could very well be the end for quem. Quis heart was pounding out of quis chest, and qui looked around to see if anyone else could hear it. They didn’t react, so qui took a deep breath. “Ready.”

What happened next was all a blur, colors and numbers and suits all ran together. Qui grasped for new cards from quis deck in a frenzied scramble. Qui was like a whirlwind, an unstoppable force of Speed. For a brief moment, qui looked up only to see the capitalist sitting across from quem had more cards in his deck. Was qui… winning?

Qui slammed down all five cards in quis hand like quis life depended on it. But alas, as qui picked up the last few remaining in quis stack, qui got the worst combo in history. Four 2’s and an ace. And the cards that were in the center were a seven and a nine. Qui was officially card locked. Meanwhile, Ancap’s pile was depleting at an alarming rate. Qui watched as quis early advantage was flushed down the drain, and the numbers of the cards in the middle danced gingerly around anything that might have given quem an opportunity to put down quis hand.

“No, it can’t be!” gasped Ancap. Qui looked up only to see quis opponent’s hand on the side stack. He was clearly card locked too. This was quis opportunity. Qui flipped over the other reserve card, and much to quis delight, it was a King and a three. 

“Speed!” Qui cried triumphantly, throwing quis last cards down.

“Congrats, Post-Left!” said Minarchist, raising his hand for a high five. 

Ancap took a swig of his liquor. “I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Bullshit, Ancap. You went easy on him!” huffed Libertarian. “You could have beaten him easily!”

“Come on, let quem have quis moment. Also, make an effort to use quis pronouns.”

“Ugh, fine. But you know it’s a cutthroat dog eat dog world out there.”

“Attention: We have arrived at Ancapistan,” announced the pilot.


	3. The New Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Left finally gets around to signing quis contract with Ancapistan Industries Co.

Post-Left looked around at the sprawling city that stood before quis eyes. It was like nothing qui had seen before. Countless skyscrapers towered over the landscape, each one adorned in hundreds of billboards and neon signs advertising various products. The sky was barely visible behind the thick veil of smog that covered the city. The roads were in an astonishing state of disrepair, but no one seemed to mind. It appeared that everyone’s preferred modes of transportation here were private helicopters and private jets.

“Welcome to Ancapistan,” said Ancap, “Where every man can be a king!” Like clockwork, the background music began to play, and the rightists began their choreographed dance routine. 

“Do you guys seriously greet _everyone_ this way?” Post-Left interrupted halfway through Minarchist’s verse.

“I paid good money for the backing track and the choreography!” replied Ancap. “It’s pretty catchy, isn’t it?”

“It’s literally capitalist propaganda.”

“To be honest, I’m glad he- uh, _qui_ , stopped us. Hoppean’s part would have been awkward,” Libertarian commented.

“Good point, good point,” replied Ancap.

“Who’s Hoppean?”

The right wingers shuffled uncomfortably. “He’s just a friend of ours,” said Libertarian.

“He must be pretty important if he has a part in this song. Where is he?”

“Oh, he couldn’t come, he’s in a very important business meeting,” fibbed Ancap.

“Yeah. Anyways, it’s not important. Minarchist will give you a quick tour while Ancap and I set everything up,” responded Libertarian.

“You guys don’t want to come with?” asked Minarchist, slightly disappointed.

“No, no, I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling this. I just have some confidential business matters I want to discuss with Ancap.”

“Whatever you say, friend. Come on Post-Left,” said Minarchist, who had already summoned his private helicopter. “After you.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Libertarian, you’re going to have to trust me when I say the situation with Hoppean is all under control. Once he finds out just how profitable it is to pander to the alphabet soup community, he’ll be on board.”

“I dunno, Ancap. Hoppean knew about the tax benefits of marriage, but he still wasn’t happy when he found out about our wedding. This Post-Left guy just seems unhinged. I mean, just look at ‘quis’ pronouns. Shouldn’t we get someone a little more… reasonable?”

“We need to set aside our own personal judgements if we want to make a profit,” responded the anarchist. “I don’t exactly understand quis gender either. But to be honest with you Libertarian, I don’t really know anyone else who would be good for the position.”

“We’re gay married!” protested Libertarian. “Don’t you think we know a thing or two?”

“Face it Libertarian, we aren’t gay.”

“But we could pretend!”

“We spent so much effort convincing everyone that our marriage is for tax purposes only that they would see right through it if we were to come out and do this thing ourselves. What we need is a spokesperson who the community sees as one of their own, and that’s just what Post-Left is.”

Libertarian sighed. “Well, you’re probably right. I just hope Hoppean isn’t too upset. If he decides to pull out of our partnership, it could be a disaster.”

“I assure you Libertarian, he knows a good idea when he sees one. We have nothing to worry about.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"And that concludes our tour. What did you think?” asked Minarchist as the helicopter landed.

“You know, this place is even shittier than I thought,” said Post-Left, quis arms folded across quis chest. 

Minarchist’s smile faded a little. “You really think so?”

“Is it okay if I call you Min?”

His face lit up once more. “Sure you can!”

“Yeah, no offense but your name is annoyingly long. Anyway Min, you can’t go anywhere in this city without being bombarded by corporate propaganda.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad once you get used to it. There’s a lot of artistry that goes into a good advertisement.”

“Artistry my ass. It’s brainwashing you to buy useless products which were probably made by people in sweatshops who are paid 25 cents a day. And all this pollution is terrible for the environment!”

Minarchist was too polite to get into a political debate with Post-Left. “Well, it’s not perfect, but I think you’ll like it here once you settle in. Anyway, we’re running a bit behind schedule, so if you don’t mind I think we’d better go inside.” He opened the helicopter door. “After you.”

Ancap & Libertarian’s mansion was massive. There was a fountain of literal molten gold outside, and the garden was filled with neatly trimmed exotic plants and hedge sculptures that put Michelangelo to shame. On either side of the large marble steps leading up to the door were busts of various capitalist thought leaders. Post-Left was both awed and disgusted. 

A butler greeted them at the door and led them through the ridiculously extravagant foyer into a banquet room. The table looked like it was about a mile long, and Ancap & Libertarian were sitting at one end, each with a delicate china plate in front of them. There were two more empty plates beside them.

"Please, take a seat. Make yourselves at home. We ordered some Little Caesars, it should be here any minute now."

Post-Left couldn't hold back his laughter at the absolute absurdity of it all. He was sitting in a dining hall more opulent than he could ever have imagined in his mind before seeing it, with a plate in front of him that was worth more money than he'd ever seen in his lifetime, waiting on Little Caesars $5 pizza to arrive. "Uh, no offense or anything, but I kind of expected you guys to have something a little fancier than that."

Ancap let out a chortle. "Our private chef is sick at the moment, and the cripplingly poor population just couldn't sustain more upscale restaurants, so we have to make do. Besides, you really can’t beat these prices. We can have some Ramen prepared if you'd prefer."

"Uh, I'm good, but thanks."

"Suit yourself. Now, let’s talk about your contract. As I’m sure you’re aware, I am the CEO of Ancapistan Industries Corp. Libertarian and Minarchist are COO and CFO, respectively. We’re offering you a position as Chief Diversity Advisor, and you’ll be helping us with marketing and PR in regards to LGBT issues. We, and our many subsidiaries, including but not limited to Cha-ching Broadcasting Inc., Ancapistan Insurance Co., Rand Publishing LLC, Big Bucks Entertainment Co.,”

Ancap spent the next five minutes listing the many subsidiaries of Ancapistan Industries, and Post-Left felt quemself drifting off to sleep. After an indeterminate amount of time, qui was awoken by a knock at the door. “...no government, no regulations, and no taxes of any kind. Minarchist, can you get the door please?” How much had qui missed? Qui didn’t want them to realize qui had been asleep for the past who knows how long. Min opened the door to reveal the butler, who had brought the pizza.

“Well, the timing couldn’t be better!” said Ancap. “Thank you Christopher.”

The butler nodded and handed the pizzas to Minarchist before leaving. He opened the boxes to reveal the iconic 8-year-old birthday party combo of cheese & pepperoni. The grease was already soaking into the cardboard. “Help yourselves.”

“Well Post-Left, I think I just about covered everything you need to know,” Ancap said, peeling a slice of pepperoni from the box. “Any questions?”

“Uhhhh,” Post-Left needed to ask something to prove he’d been paying attention the whole time, but of course he’d only heard a tiny fraction of the presentation. “How do you avoid taxes? Don’t you still have to pay the state and federal taxes here?”

“It’s simple, really. We just bribe the IRS every year.”

“Isn’t that the same as just paying taxes?”

“Of course not. You see, bribing the IRS is voluntary. Paying taxes is involuntary, and therefore it’s theft.”

“Uh, that literally makes no sense, but okay.”

“Well, if you don’t have any more questions Post-Left, then please go ahead and sign on the dotted line here,” said Libertarian, handing quem a pen. The contract was the literary equivalent of one of those pharmaceutical ads on TV where they hire the world’s fastest rapper to list off the symptoms while a video of a happy family plays in the background. They always say to read the fine print, but the entire thing was fine print, and to be honest Post-Left didn’t understand the legal jargon.

“Hey, quick question. I don’t understand what any of this says.”

“Yes, well, it’s like that for legal purposes you see. Rest assured, it only covers everything we discussed here today. There’s no hidden catch,” replied Libertarian. This already seemed a bit suspicious, but at the end of the day, qui didn’t have much of a choice. They were offering quem housing and food, and qui didn’t have much to lose. Qui scrawled quis signature across the paper and handed it to Libertarian.

“Thanks. We’re excited to work with you. When’s the soonest you can start?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Great. We’ll get your quarters prepared then. The jet will be there at 9:00 tomorrow, so make sure you’re awake.”


	4. Dark Clouds On The Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hoppean starts his journey to becoming a cartoon villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: queerphobia

Post-Left had learned from quis past mistake and woke up at the ass-crack of dawn, aka 8:45. Qui spent 5 minutes getting dressed in quis best - knee high trans socks, a pencil skirt, quis only t-shirt that didn’t have an anti-capitalist or antifa slogan on it, and a rainbow tie. In other words, qui was a hot mess. Qui didn’t have a suitcase for quis belongings, so instead qui dug an old plastic bag out of the trash. Qui was in the process of folding up quis many pride flags when qui heard a knock at the door. Qui stuffed the nonbinary flag into quis bag and answered the door.

“Good morning Post-Left,” greeted Ancap. He was wearing his signature shades, but based on the way he eyed quem up and down, qui could tell he was silently judging quem. 

“You know, I usually just wear my antifa gear, so be happy I made an effort for you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can set you up with a proper suit. The tie is good though, it will help your image.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

They entered the private jet and sat down at the table. It was empty except for the pilot. Ancap poured a glass of wine for himself and one for Post-Left.

“Where are Libertarian and Minarchist?”

“They’re in a board meeting right now, but I wanted to come pick you up personally.”

“But aren’t you the CEO?”

Ancap scratched his neck. “Well, that’s true, but the meeting’s not very important.” Post-Left didn’t need to know that he was trying to worm his way out of difficult negotiations. “Try some of this wine, it’s quite exquisite.”

“I feel like you’re going to make me pay if I drink it.”

“No, consider this a free trial. If you like it though, I would be more than willing to sell you a bottle.”

“Sorry Ancap, but I’m sort of strapped for cash. That’s kind of why I decided to come to Ancapistan.”

“You’ll be a billionaire in good time, my friend. Ancapistan is the land of opportunity.”

“To be honest Ancap, I hate Ancapistan. I’m only going because I have no choice. I don’t care about being a billionaire, I just want to live my life without stupid heirarchies.”

“Well, if you make it to the top of the hierarchy, it’s almost as if it doesn’t exist. You can’t be a slave when there’s nobody above you.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t born a millionaire, so I doubt I’ll be getting to the top of that hierarchy no matter how much ‘hard work’ I put in or whatever.”

“Of course you can. You know the most powerful man in all of Ancapistan. Networking is everything, you know. Well, aside from hard work, of course.”

“Why are you being all nice to me all of a sudden? You know, during the Centricide, you would always argue with me about capitalism.”

“Yes, but that was back then. You’ve changed, I’ve changed, and I think it would be best for both of us if we set aside our differences and work together. And I have to admit, I quite enjoyed smoking weed with you when the statists were busy playing Call of Duty.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It would be kinda nice to have friends again.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Howdy Hoppean, glad you could make it!” smiled Libertarian. “I see you’re a little late, but that’s not a problem. Please, have a seat.”

“Ancap isn’t here,” Hoppean grunted.

“Yes, he’s been a bit under the weather lately, but don’t worry about him. Listen we have a new proposal. This could be big. Now Hoppean, you know we would never make a decision unless we were 100% convinced it would be best for the company, and Ancap and Minarchist are already on board with this idea.”

“Cut to the chase,” he glared.

“We’re talking about a plan which is projected to increase our growth by 130% in the second quarter. Our stock prices will be at a record high! And the best part is, it’ll barely cost us a thing.”

“You wouldn’t have said all that unless there was a catch,” said Hoppean, “so what is it?”

Libertarian was suddenly uneasy. He glanced at Minarchist. “Do you want to explain the plan?”

“I really think you would explain it better than I could-”

Hoppean slammed his fist down on the table. “What are you proposing?!”

Minarchist adjusted his tie nervously. “Well, we were thinking about launching an ad campaign for Pride Month featuring a representative from the LGBT community.”

Hoppean spat out the water he’d been holding in his mouth specifically for the purpose of spitting it out in the event that someone said something absurd. It was partially for the dramatic effect and partially a sabotage technique, super effective against outrageous paper contracts and uppity interns. “Absolutely not!”

“Hoppean, hear me out here,” Libertarian said sheepishly. “I knew you wouldn’t be happy about this, but it’ll be incredibly profitable, I promise. It’s what’s best for the business. Believe me, if it were profitable for us to discriminate against the gays, we would do it in a heartbeat.”

Hoppean looked Libertarian in the eye. “If you want me to support degeneracy of any kind in this city, then mark my words when I say that I will forcibly remove you into the ocean alongside all the degenerates you want to pander to.” He stood up and pushed in his chair. He gave them each a brief nod before leaving the meeting without another word. Libertarian and Minarchist exchanged a worried glance.

“Ancap won’t be happy when he hears about this,” said Minarchist.

“You don’t say?” replied Libertarian, massaging his temples with his fingers. “Ancap and I were sure he would be willing to set aside his hatred of gay people in the name of profit.”

“What do you think he’ll do when he finds out about the contract?”

“If he finds out, it will be a complete disaster. We have to keep this whole operation under wraps.”

At that very moment, the doorbell rang. 

“Too late.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Hey Ancap, who’s that?” asked Post-Left, pointing to the man in the wrinkly yellow shirt who had just exited the mansion. Ancap suddenly became very flustered.

“Quick! Go hide somewhere!”

“What?”

“No time to explain!”

Qui crouched behind one of the bushes in the mansion’s large garden, peering through the leaves at the mysterious person.

“What was that  _ thing _ ?” asked Hoppean as he approached.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ancap. I saw it walking with you.”

“It must have been one of the cripplingly poor waiting for some money to fall out of my pocket.”

Hoppean slapped him. “Bullshit! It couldn’t have gotten through all the security unless you let it. Tell me,  _ what is it?” _

Ancap put his hand to his cheek. “That was a clear violation of the NAP.”

“You know Ancap, your little NAP is meaningless to me. When I became a shareholder in Ancapistan Industries, I agreed to follow it on the one condition that you wouldn’t engage in or endorse degeneracy of any form. But I shouldn’t have been so stupid. The problem with degeneracy is that it’s like a tumor. It starts off with just a few infected cells, but then it mutates and grows until it consumes our entire society. I’ve been far too lenient, but now you’ve violated our Non-Degeneracy Pact. I will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. And that’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”

He froze, unsure of how to react as Hoppean marched ahead with new vigour in his step. Once the coast was clear, Post-Left slowly emerged from the greenery and approached him.

“W-who was that?”

Ancap sighed. “That was Hoppean.”

“He was kind of scary,” Post-Left trembled. “What’s he going to do?”

Ancap shook his head. “I don’t know.”

They stood in worried silence for a few seconds. “Well, I suppose we should go tell the others about this.”


	5. Second Thoughts

“He said WHAT?!" cried Libertarian.

"I know, it's worrisome, but it's true."

"This is terrible! What are we going to do?" asked Minarchist.

"I believe it would be best if we discussed this in private. Minarchist, if you wouldn't mind showing Post-Left to his room?" said Ancap.

Minarchist nodded. "Follow me."  He led quem through the long, winding hallways and up a few elegant stairways until they eventually arrived at Post-Left's private suite. 

"Well, here you are. Make yourself at home."

"Uh, thanks, but how am I supposed to find my way back to the foyer?"

"Oh, easy. Just keep walking down this hallway until you get to the third door to the left of where you are now. From there, make a right turn and keep going until you find a staircase. Once you get there you’ll want to head to the meeting room, so when you come to a set of two open doors, you’ll need to enter the door on your left. That will take you into the study, where you should forfeit your roll and use the secret passage to get to the kitchen. From there, use the door on your immediate right to get to the library. There should be a bookshelf in there which has a book titled "The Secret Entrance." When you find that bookshelf, you're going to have to pull out some books whose titles' first words spell out Ancap's darkest secret, and that will activate the secret door to open. Then you'll be in the dining hall, and I'm sure you can find your way to the foyer from there. Easy, right? Anyway, I'll leave you in peace."

"Uh, thanks," replied Post-Left, scratching quis head. It was completely inevitable that qui would get lost in here. Qui resigned quemself to quis fate and began unpacking quis belongings. Qui hadn't brought much; just a black hoodie, quis favorite bandana, a pair of black pants, a toothbrush, a glass pipe, and quis array of pride flags. The room itself was indistinguishable from the kind you could expect to find at a Motel 6. It had most likely been a storage room before it was hastily converted to quis bedroom. It was still nicer than quis old place though. There was plenty of wall space for the pride flags, the bed looked fairly comfortable, and there were no rats or cockroaches roaming around. It was hard to believe how quickly quis life had changed from struggling to pay rent with quis minimum wage job to living in this massive mansion with some of the richest men alive.

Still, qui couldn't shake the feeling that qui was in some kind of grave danger. There was something off about everyone's demeanor, especially Libertarian, and that crazy Hoppean guy outside has just threatened to destroy everything Ancap loved. It seemed like a credible threat too, based on the others' reactions. Had qui just triggered the McNuclear™ Holocaust? Qui was no stranger to bashing the fash, but this particular fash seemed a lot more powerful than the typical scrawny neckbeards qui was used to. Qui was admittedly reassured by the fact that his room seemed to be located in the middle of a maze, so even if qui couldn't get out, at least Hoppean would be unlikely to find quem. But what about the others? Would they be okay? Qui may disagree with them politically, but they didn’t deserve to be crushed under the unrelenting boot of fascism. Qui couldn’t help but feel a little guilt at the thought of having brought this upon them, even though it was still quis right to wear whatever qui wanted and freely express quemself.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Ancap, I think we should cancel the contract,” said Libertarian, a grave expression on his face. "Post-Left is too much of a liability." 

“He’s right,” added Minarchist. “Hoppean has the largest recreational McNuclear™ arsenal in all of Ancapistan. And I heard he’s developing a secret weapon.”

“We’ll build more nukes then! We can’t just let this opportunity slip through our fingers because Hoppean is an idiot!” spat Ancap. “Post-Left is so easily exploitable, we’ll make millions!”

“I dunno Ancap. Maybe the world just isn’t ready for this yet,” suggested Libertarian. “Could our polls have been wrong?”

Ancap took off his shades, folded them, and set them down on the table. He gave them both a stern gaze. “Gentlemen, when we started this company, we had only one purpose in mind: to maximize our profits at all costs. I partnered with you because I knew you both had weak character. I knew you weren’t just in it for your own morals, or for the potential to give back to the community, or to contribute to some wider societal cause. You only cared about one thing: money. I saw a lot of potential in you two,” He continued. “We can’t back down on our values now. And if that means we have to wage war against Hoppean, then so be it. Now, which of you gentlemen will stand with me, and which of you are spineless cowards?!” 

Libertarian and Minarchist exchanged a glance.

“I’ll do it,” declared Libertarian.

“So will I,” added Minarchist.

“Then it’s settled.” Ancap shook both of their hands. 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Hello, you’ve reached the International Union of Nationalists. Can I help you?”

“Who am I speaking to?”

“Moderate Lee. I’m the receptionist.”

“Get White Identitarian on the line.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll need to make an appointment.”

“Let me make one thing very clear. Every second that you waste with your useless bureaucracy is another second that degeneracy is allowed to spread. And if your little union is complacent in the moral decline of society, then you will be the very first one to die, because the only thing that disgusts me more than degenerates are those who sit back while Western society crumbles around you. So Moderate Lee, I recommend you let me speak to White Identitarian unless you want to experience a slow and torturous demise that will make your precious Hitler look like a goddamn pacifist.”

“Uh, y-yes sir,” he quivered. 

“Who was that?” Moderate Lee spun around to see Nazi standing behind him. “His speech was impressive.”

“I don’t know sir, he just called wanting to speak to you.”

Identitarian snatched the phone from Moderate Lee’s hand. “Hello, This is White Identitarian speaking. I couldn’t help but overhear your monologue. You sound like exactly the kind of person we want on this team. Someone who’s passionate about preventing the destruction of our culture and society and will stop at nothing to uphold his values.”

“Good. My name’s Hoppean, and I want to join the International Union of Nationalists.”


	6. A Shot in the Dark

It was 3:17 AM, and Post-Left hadn’t had much luck sleeping, so qui had decided to explore the mansion and see if qui could find quis way to somewhere qui recognized. There were way too many unnecessary rooms in this place - qui had only been walking around for a half hour and qui already managed to find an exotic silly straw gallery, an indoor swimming pool filled with chocolate milk, and a WWII themed putt putt golf course. Qui wondered how long it had been since anyone but the housekeeping staff had been in any of these rooms. Why on earth did Ancap & Libertarian have a room dedicated to small animal specimens in jars but not a guest bedroom?? 

After a couple more minutes of this, qui realized it was a lost cause trying to find quis way around the mansion. Qui didn’t know how to get back to quis room either, and even if qui had thought it was a good idea to wake up Ancap, qui didn’t even know where he was. Then qui hatched a plan that could either be stupid or genius. 

“Fuck it,” qui muttered under quis breath. Qui might regret this later, but qui decided to climb out the window.

This was the first time qui had really had the chance to explore the gardens, although it was too dark for quem to see much. Qui strolled through what qui imagined was lush, green grass, quickly realizing that flowers were kind of boring actually. That is, until qui stepped in a pot hole and tripped, landing face-first in a puddle of mud.

“Seriously?!” Qui got up and tried to wipe the mud off of quemself, but it was useless. Then qui noticed what appeared to be footprints, and they definitely weren’t quis own. Curious, qui followed them until qui came to what appeared to be a hole. It was carefully hidden behind some bushes, but the footprints gave it away. Could this have been Hoppean’s doing?

Qui looked down to see a ladder leading to the bottom. Qui cautiously climbed down. It must have taken quite a bit of effort to dig this thing, so how did he do it so quickly? When qui reached the bottom, qui saw a secret tunnel leading to who knows where. Qui was kicking quemself for not bringing quis bat. Qui couldn’t risk following the tunnel any further in case it led to Hoppean’s secret lair or something similarly sinister, so qui reluctantly climbed back up the ladder. Qui would have to save the antifashiste aktion for a later date. 

Meanwhile, Ancap, Libertarian, and Minarchist had been up late talking with various weapons manufacturers in order to get the best deals on McNukes™. Minarchist had already crashed out on one of the many fancy couches, and Libertarian was half falling asleep as he made negotiations over the phone. Ancap was on his third cup of coffee, pacing up and down the hallways as he tried to convince his associates not to do business with Hoppean. Unfortunately, he had too great a market share in too many industries for it to be viable. In fact, most of the arms manufacturers were already in kahoots with Hoppean Manufacturing Inc., and Ancap couldn’t risk him finding out about their plans. 

He’d walked past the abandoned putt putt golf room three times before he noticed that the window in front of it was wide open. Who could possibly have opened it? It wasn’t Libertarian, it wasn’t Minarchist, so that left only one option. Post-Left.

He ran up the master staircase, down the long hallways, through the simulation marine corps obstacle course, across the precarious jungle rope bridge, and past the gaping jaws of the animatronic megalodon to Post-Left’s quarters. He knocked hopefully, but of course there was no response, so he flung open the door and stepped inside only to see an empty, unmade bed.

“Post-Left?” he called, but nobody replied. So it had been quem. He rushed back to the window once again and scanned the garden for any signs of the money-making machine, tears forming in his eyes. “Post-Left!!” There was only one explanation for this. Qui must have been kidnapped by Hoppean, and that little NAP-violating move meant Ancap was free to pump that son of a bitch full of lead.

Not a second after his feet hit the ground did he hear a rustling in the bushes. He cocked his pistol in preparation, crouching down to avoid being spotted. Someone was clearly nearby. He hid behind a nearby tree and turned the safety off. Slowly, with his gun before his body, he peeked around the corner only to see a dark figure approaching. No doubt it was one of Hoppean’s goonies who had seen him. Without warning, he fired two shots and quickly moved back to the safety of the tree’s trunk. The man screamed in agony, and after a couple seconds, Ancap checked again only to see him lying on the ground.

He kept his gun at the ready as he approached. As he neared the figure, he could start to make out more features, and that’s when he realized: the person he’d just shot was in fact Post-Left.

“A-ancap??” Quis eyes were wide. “What are you doing??”

He dropped the gun and knelt beside his bleeding associate. Only one of his shots had landed, and it looked like it had only hit quis arm. He breathed a sigh of relief; there was still hope for this campaign.

“Post-Left, are you alright?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?? You just fucking shot me! Of course I’m not alright!!”

His eyes were filled with regret. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you! I thought you had been kidnapped by Hoppean!”

“Well don’t just sit there and make excuses you piece of shit, call an ambulance or something!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He took out his phone and dialed his private medical team. “They’ll be here in two minutes.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

When the first responders arrived on the scene, they found Ancap cradling Post-Left as if qui were dying, all while qui showered him with every insult under the sun (except those which contained slurs, of course). When he saw them, he helped them load quem onto the luxury satin stretcher with gold side bars. It was only under the light of the ambulance-copter’s sirens that he could finally see how much blood had soaked into his clothes. He regretted having allowed this to happen immensely. 

“Ancap, what’s happening?!” called Minarchist’s familiar voice. Ancap turned around to see his two non-rogue associates.

“Are you alright?” asked his husband, concern tinting his voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Then why are you covered in blood?” 

He didn’t know how to put this in a way that sounded good. “Well, uh… I shot Post-Left.”

“WHAT?!” the two cried in unison.

“It was a mistake, I promise! Qui wasn’t in quis room, and the window was open, so I assumed Hoppean had done something. And well… It was too dark to see that it was quem out here and not one of Hoppean’s men.”

“What a relief that qui got hurt and not you,” said Libertarian, letting go of the breath he’d clearly been holding in. “But what does this mean for the plan?”

“If we play our cards right, nothing,” replied Ancap. “I’ll make sure of it. We can’t afford to lose this chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love so far guys <333


	7. Bricking It

When Post-Left opened quis eyes, qui was in what appeared to be a decadent luxury hospital. Qui was lying in a king bed with about 50 pillows and a golden silk blanket. A diamond chandelier hung overhead, and the walls were decorated by paintings of famous artists in massive gold frames. 

“Ah, Post-Left, you’re awake!” Qui turned quis head to see Ancap sitting beside quis bed with a bundle of flowers.

Qui rolled quis eyes. “Have you come to apologize for the millionth time?”

He leaned in closer to quem. “Post-Left, I’m a businessman. And that means I’ve had to issue a few public apologies in regards to certain… ethical controversies. It’s unavoidable. But I know better than anyone that a simple apology just isn’t enough,” his gaze softened. “I violated the NAP, and I deeply regret it. I should have been more careful. There’s no excuse for what I did.” He handed Post-Left the bouquet and dug his checkbook out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Here,” he said, tearing out a blank check and handing it to quem. “For damages.”

Qui glanced at Ancap, then at the check, then at Ancap again. “It’s blank.”

“Precisely.”

Qui suddenly understood. “So you want me to come up with a number?”

“Whatever you think I owe you.”

“What’s your net worth?”

Ancap chuckled at the joke. “Don’t make me have to throw you out the choppy.”

Qui paused to think for a minute. “Geez Ancap, I dunno…”

“I’ll give you some time to think about it. For now, I thought you might like some company." He sat back in his chair. "So, just out of curiosity, why were you out in the garden?"

"Honestly, I kinda got lost. I mean your mansion is huge. It was like 3 AM and I couldn't sleep so I thought I may as well explore. You have a lot of useless rooms."

"Yes, well, they all seemed like good ideas at the time."

"Come on Ancap, in what world is a chocolate milk pool a good idea??"

"That one is very personal, I'd prefer not to go into the details."

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"What could possibly be taking him so long?? It's been ages since he left, and he's the one always telling me time is money," complained Libertarian. "We've got work to do here!"

Minarchist put a hand on his back sympathetically. "I'm sure he'll come back soon."

"Hoppean could strike at any minute, and we can't risk being unprepared!"

"I don't think he'll do anything. The guy is all bark and no bite."

"But why would he be stockpiling all these nuclear missiles unless he was gonna use them?"

"We have nuclear missiles too. One of those things would be enough to wipe out Ancapistan. If he used them on us, it would be Mutually Assured Destruction."

"I just don't know Minarchist. If only Ancap were here, he would know what to do. It's times like these where I really start to appreciate the kind of leader he was."

"It's been eight minutes. I know you're worried, but you can always call him if you need to."

"Yeah, but Minarchist, what if he thinks I'm too clingy or high mainten-"

At that moment, he was interrupted by the sound of a brick crashing through a nearby window, shattering the glass and sending a flurry of shards towards him and Minarchist. They both ducked for cover before pulling out the guns they always carried with them for times like these. Libertarian ran up to the window and looked outside, only to see a brief flash of a person before he disappeared behind some bushes.

"Come back here you coward!" he shouted, loading a bullet into his trusty revolver. He gestured to Minarchist and they both took off after the person. But alas, it seemed he had gotten away.

"He might have escaped, but don't let your guard down," warned Libertarian.

"Do you think that was Hoppean?"

"Who else could it be?" he asked, carefully making his way back towards the mansion.

"I don't know, but throwing a brick through a window then running away doesn't seem very Hoppean to me."

"It's probably like you said. He knows he can't use the nuclear weapons, so he's resorting to other tactics."

"Yeah, but this? It just seems low-class."

"He's always been unpredictable. Man, if only Ancap were here…"

"You should call him."

"Are you sure? I don't want to bother him or anything."

"Libertarian, if there was anything he wanted you to bother him about, it would be this."

"Yeah, but what if he gets upset?"

"You really seem to be second guessing yourself, friend. It's okay to call Ancap. There's no need for you to be so worried about it. You're married, after all."

"I guess you're right," said Libertarian, pulling out his phone. His finger hovered above the button for a few seconds before he finally pressed it.

"Hello, Libertarian, what do you need?"

He took a deep breath. "Well Ancap, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but someone just threw a brick through the window."

Ancap jolted out of his seat. "What!? Did you see who it was??"

"I'm afraid not. They got away too quickly."

"How did they escape?"

"I'm not sure. They lost us in the garden."

"Summon our entire police force. Tell them to search the premises for this person."

"Got it."

Post-Left looked up at Ancap worriedly. "What's happening?"

“Libertarian just called. He told me someone threw a brick through a window at the mansion.”

Quis eyes widened in fear. “Ancap, you better watch out, because the next one might be a molotov.”

Ancap chuckled. “We’re not getting raided by antifa. Besides, we have the best private police force in Ancapistan. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Then why do you guys always act so afraid?”

“Uhh… You can never be to careful. Look, we have a recreational McNuke™ pointed right at his base. Of course, he also has one pointed at ours, but that’s not important. The point is, our private police chief is the best in Ancapistan, and he’ll catch the perpetrator in no time.” 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“We’ve searched the entire property and we couldn’t find him,” reported Ancap’s private police chief.

Ancap shook his head. “What am I paying you incompetent buffoons for?! We can’t just let him get away!”

“I’m sorry Ancap, but we’ve already scanned the entire 23andMe database. The DNA sample didn’t match anyone in Ancapistan, and neither did the fingerprints.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” frowned Libertarian. “This can only mean one thing: Hoppean must have outside connections.”

“But who?” asked Minarchist. “The only person we know who would ally with him is the Nazi, and he’s still in the Centricide.”

“Maybe not,” said Ancap, pulling up a website on his phone. The others gathered around to see. He had opened a page for The International Union of Nationalists, and sure enough, right there on the front page was White Identitarian, along with a whole crew of others. The picture had already been updated to include Hoppean. Below the image was a big button saying “Join now!”

“I can’t believe this,” muttered Libertarian. “He didn’t even use SquareSpace™, the affordable online tool which will allow you to build a professional website for your business or organization in no time!”

The others gave him a bemused look.

“Sorry, but I gotta take whatever sponsorships I can get.”

Just then, Ancap hatched a plan. “I have an idea… What if one of us infiltrates their little organization?”

“Yes, but who?” 

All eyes turned to Minarchist. 

“Why me?!”

“Because,” grinned Ancap. “You would make a great tradwife.”

“But I don’t have any women's clothes."

"You're acting like we can't just go buy some," Libertarian smirked.

"But I don't know anything about women's fashion!"

"Well," Ancap smiled, "I know someone who could help with that."


	8. The Cult of Domesticity

"Are you sure it was a good idea to make Post-Left come here rather than rest and recover?" questioned Minarchist as he and the rest of Ancap's posse strutted through the racks of dresses.

"It'll be fine!" replied Ancap, sipping his pumpkin spice latte. “I spoke with the hospital staff, and they were planning on discharging quem today anyway.”

“Oh my god, did you hear McDonalds decided to merge with Applebee’s?” asked Libertarian.

Ancap scoffed. “That’s, like, so gross. McDonald’s can do way better.”

“Ugh, I know right? I heard Chick-Fil-A was looking to sell.”

“Really??” squealed Minarchist. “Do you think I should talk to the CEO?”

Libertarian giggled. “No offense, but Chick-Fil-A is kind of out of your league. They’ll probably be bought out by a Fortune 500 before this year’s Ancapistan Expo.”

"Whatever,” Post-Left rolled quis eyes at the inane corporate gossip. “Min, are you gonna try any of those on or are you just gonna carry them around all day?”

Not quite knowing what to pick, Minarchist had pretty much cleared out the entire clearance section. Qui wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable GBF changing room montage that would no doubt take an eternity. Qui also wondered why Ancap and Libertarian had even bothered to come to this, except just to gossip. God, it was like something straight out of a stereotypical high school movie.

“Yeah, good idea!”

Qui sighed. “Alright, I think the changing room is that way.”

The squad traversed the uncharted waters of the Target women’s clothing section, seemingly unabashed. When they finally arrived at the fabled changing room, they couldn’t quite believe their eyes. 

“So this is where poor people come to get clothes,” whispered Libertarian, admiring the mirrors adorning the walls.

“Have you never been in a changing room before??” asked Post-Left, incredulous.

The others shook their heads. “We get all our clothes custom tailored,” responded Ancap.

“Which one should I try first?” asked Minarchist, pulling off his shirt in front of the mirror.

Post-Left chuckled. “You’re meant to use one of the stalls dumbass. Put your shirt back on.”

“Wait, those aren’t bathroom stalls?”

Qui cupped quis face with quis hands. “No. If they were this would be called the bathroom. Speaking of which, I kind of have to go pee.”

“Well, have fun in there!” Minarchist waved as qui walked out of the changing room. He took his mountain of clothing into a stall, and Libertarian & Ancap followed.

“Does anyone know how to use this latch?” Minarchist asked, fiddling with the standard slide-lock found in the majority of public bathrooms.

“Beats me,” shrugged Libertarian. 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Anarkiddy! Is that you?”

When qui heard the familiar voice, qui instinctively picked up quis pace a little, pretending qui hadn’t heard. This was the absolute last thing qui wanted to deal with on quis way back to Minarchist’s drag transformation. Or, really, in any situation. Alas, qui sensed the little bitch boy getting closer to quem.

“Ancom! It is you! It’s me, your old comrade!”

Qui whipped around, a look of irritation on quis face. “My name’s Post-Left.” Qui noticed the basket Tankie was carrying beside him was filled with glue bottles and glitter. Was he an elementary school art teacher now??

“Да, sorry, I forgot about that. It’s so good to see you again, I-”

Qui started walking again. “Sorry bud, the feeling’s not mutual. I have actual friends now.”

Tankie followed, looking hurt. “We could be friends again. I… I miss you.”

“And I miss five minutes ago before you spotted me. Look, I don’t have time for this, so if you don’t mind I’m gonna start ignoring you now and go back to what I was doing.”

“No, wait, Post-Left, I… I…”

Qui was almost running at this point, leaving Commie behind in the jeans section. He sighed. Why was qui being like this? The two of them really had something together back when qui was still on the team. It was unspoken, but he felt it, and he had truly thought qui did too. But then qui flushed it all down the drain that one day for reasons Tankie still didn’t understand. It was so senseless. It was like throwing away the entire three-volume set of Das Kapital just because there was a typo on one page. And after that, he had honestly never expected to see Post-Left again. What could qui possibly be doing at a random Target in Ancapistan?

He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t help himself. He followed behind quem at a distance, stealthily weaving through the aisles to minimize his chances of being seen. If Nazi could see him right now, he would probably call him a weak degenerate. But he wanted to know. He had to know. As a counter-counter-revolutionary measure. 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

When qui re-entered the changing room, qui looked around, but there was no sign of Libertarian or Ancap. Was their attention span really so short, or had they ditched quem?

“Hey Libertarian, can you help me with this zipper?” Minarchist’s familiar voice rang out from inside one of the stalls.

“Sure thing.” 

_ Oh god. Why are they all in the same stall. _ “What the hell is going on in there? Am I interrupting something right now?”

“Not at all,” responded Ancap. “You should come in.”

Before qui could refuse, the door swung open, and qui was in total shock.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys??”

Minarchist was wearing a hideous dress which looked like it came straight out of a Catholic schoolteacher’s wardrobe, but that was the least of it. Libertarian and Ancap were wearing matching pink bikinis. Qui may be gay, but qui wasn’t prepared to see that. Although he had to admit, Ancap had some abs.

“What?” They all looked at him as if they weren’t wearing ridiculous outfits.

“Oh my god. There’s just so much to say. First of all, Min, that dress is absolutely hideous, even for a tradwife outfit. Second, why are you two wearing pink bikinis?? And third, do you not give a shit about your privacy??”

Qui didn’t go in, and they didn’t close the door.

“Oh, relax,” replied Libertarian. “We’re all subscribed to each other’s OnlyFans.”

“That literally doesn’t explain anything.”

Suddenly, the expressions on the capitalists’ faces all changed.

“What??”

“Look behind you.”

Qui turned around only to see a tall, muscular figure with a bulbous nose, a large moustache, and a pair of black glasses had just entered the changing room and was staring at them all. That mysterious person was, very conspicuously, Tankie wearing a set of those ridiculous disguise glasses for kids. They all stared at him for several incredibly awkward moments, and he stared at all of them with the same level of shock. 

“Fuck off you Commie bastard!” sneered Ancap, breaking the cringe-inducing silence.

His eyes welled up with tears. “Post-Left… How could you…”

“Stay the fuck away from us you perverted piece of shit!” qui shouted back.

That was clearly enough to send him over the edge. He half-walked, half-ran out of the changing room without another word. It was as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. He choked back tears as he wove his way through the clothes, trying to think about anything but the stabbing pain in his heart. How could Post-Left betray him, betray Leftist Unity, just to join the capitalists, those filthy, vile, disgusting parasites which he had spent so much time trying to destroy? It had been one thing when Ancom became Post-Left and disappeared, but this? This was just unbearable. He had always thought he would be the one to betray quem after the Leftist Revolution, and he had already forced himself to come to terms with the fact that sooner or later qui would be at the business end of his gun, even after he had failed to pull the trigger so many times in that field of flowers. But at least then it would have ended on good terms. He never could have guessed it would be the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a weird one today bois
> 
> Relevant song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVdPh2cBTN0


	9. When Traps Are Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't actually think "traps" are gay, I just wanted a punny title. Trans rights are human rights <3
> 
> TW: homophobia, transphobia

“Rise and shine, Post-Left!” called Ancap, who had been knocking at the door for the past five minutes.

Qui groaned, rolling over in quis bed. “It’s too early.”

“This is important! Besides, your contact specifies that you have to be available at all hours of the day.”

“Fine,” qui yawned, regretting not having paid more attention at that stupid meeting. Qui reluctantly got out of bed and threw on quis comfortable black bloc gear, not even bothering to brush quis teeth. When qui opened the door, quis eyes were assaulted by so much color they would short circuit if qui looked at Ancap much longer.

“Today we’re going to a pride parade!” he announced cheerily. 

“You’re a little early for that, bud. Pride month isn’t till June.”

“The organizers of this one decided to do it early,” replied Ancap. “It’ll be great market research.” 

After a while of having stared at it, qui began to make sense of his ridiculous outfit. He was wearing a tacky rainbow tye-dye shirt with matching tackier rainbow tye-dye shorts and knee high rainbow socks. His regular shades had been swapped out for some gimmicky rainbow ones. His hat was rainbow. He was wearing a Hawaiian lei, also rainbow. He also had an impressive arsenal of flags tied around him like a series of capes. Qui was a little jealous of his collection. On his hat he had what appeared to be a random assortment of pins, but on closer inspection, were all various versions of the lesbian flag for some reason. God, why were there so many versions of that flag.

“Okay, but why are you wearing so many lesbian pride pins?”

“Nonsense, I got Libertarian to order a variety pack.”

Post-Left held in a chuckle, deciding not to tell him he had been duped. “Yeah, whatever. Where exactly is this pride parade?”

“Well, it’s a bit out of the way, which is why I woke you up early. Libertarian and Minarchist are already downstairs."

"How do you guys have time for all this stuff? Aren't you supposed to be busy managing your companies?"

Ancap laughed. "Of course not. That's just something we tell poor people so they don't get mad at us for being too idle. Honestly Postie, you're the most fun thing that's happened to me in a while."

Qui felt a little warmth inside. He had never called quem 'Postie' before, but qui didn't say anything. Sure it was a little cringey, but it was catchier than Post-Left. Qui could live with it.

When they entered the foyer, Minarchist and Libertarian were waiting for them, dressed in similarly garish rainbow garb. Qui was starting to feel like the least gay one there, and qui was the only one who wasn’t straight. 

"Wow, you guys have a lot of rainbow stuff…"

"Don't worry Post-Left, we got you!" responded Minarchist, opening a box to reveal a rainbow bandana, a tacky tye-dye shirt that matched Ancap's, and some rainbow plastic beads. 

"We really ought to get going. You can put them on when we're in the jet," said Ancap. The yellow and purple aircraft was already waiting for them outside. They filed in, and Post-Left took the opportunity to snag a window seat this time. Qui was surprised when Ancap sat next to quem.

"Hey Post-Left, you're in my seat," Libertarian growled.

"It's not a big deal Libertarian, just let quem sit there."

Libertarian crossed his arms. "Come on, qui is clearly trespassing on my private property."

"Last time I checked I paid for this jet, so technically it's my private property," rebutted Ancap. 

Minarchist dutifully took the cards out of the deck and started shuffling. "What are we playing today?"

"I was thinking VC," Libertarian suggested.

"Come on, VC is boring as hell," whined Post-Left. "Let's play BS instead!"

Minarchist and Ancap nodded in agreement. "What a load of bullshit," Libertarian complained under his breath, picking up his stack of cards.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

When they arrived at the site of the pride parade, it was disconcertingly empty. Only a few people were milling around inside what appeared to be a small fenced off area in a park, and there were equally as many counter protestors outside. Perhaps the SJWs really had set the LGBT movement back, or perhaps the timing of the event was just very poor.

"Are you sure you got the right address?" questioned Minarchist, looking around at the sparse landscape.

"This is the place," responded Ancap. "Maybe more people will arrive later."

"Hey you!" called a random woman walking by. 

"Who, me?" asked Ancap.

"Yeah, you female impersonator! People like you make me sick! No lesbian wants to sleep with a MAN who has a penis, plain and simple!"

Ancap turned to Post-Left, confused. "What on earth is that person talking about?"

"Ugh, she's a stupid TERF who thinks you're a trans lesbian. Just ignore her."

"A… what now??"

"Don't worry Ancap, I got this," interrupted Libertarian. He cleared his throat. "Trains rights are human rights!" Afterwards, he whispered, "I read that online somewhere. I don’t know why they care about trains so much.”

"Wow, you guys really don't give a shit about the LGBTQ community at all, do you?" 

"Of course we do!" responded Libertarian angrily. "We're doing all this for you, you know."

"Okay, then tell me what the letters stand for."

"Uh… uh…" he stuttered for a few seconds. "What are they again?"

Ancap butted in, trying to salvage this disaster. "Look, we're not perfect, but we're trying to learn. That's why we wanted you, Postie."

There it was again. 

"Is that his new nickname? Postie? Honestly Ancap, it's kind of cringe," said Libertarian.

"Shut up Libertarian, I don’t understand why you’re being like this today. It’s almost like you don’t care about money- I mean, the…” he struggled to remember the acronym. “The gay community.”

“You don’t have to pretend that this isn’t about profit.”

“Thank you,” Libertarian sighed in relief.

“Libertarian!”

“Well, we all know it’s true.”

“That’s ridiculous. You know, when I started Ancapistan, I wanted to create a place where everyone can feel safe and accepted.”

“Ancap, no offense but that’s the most obvious bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Their argument was interrupted by an announcer’s voice. “Attention everyone! The drag show will start in twenty minutes!”

“They’re having a drag racing??” asked Libertarian. “Where’s the track?”

Post-Left rolled quis eyes. “Are you guys seriously this oblivious?”

“Uh, hey everyone, do you want to get matching face paint?” asked Ancap, trying to distract quem from their complete gormlessness.

“Why not?” Minarchist replied enthusiastically.

The four of them went over to the face painting booth and poured over the chart showing all the designs. There were only three designs: a poorly done rainbow heart, a poorly done heart with the bisexual flag, and a poorly done heart with the transgender flag.

“That has a good color scheme,” said Ancap, pointing to the trans heart. “Let’s get that one.”

“Have you decided what design you want?” asked the person manning the booth, clearly getting impatient.

“Yeah, can we all get the, uh…” Ancap turned to Post-Left. “What flag is that?”

“The transgender heart, please.”

“What number is that?”

“Oh, uh, number 3.”

“Okay, that’ll be $5 per person please.”

“What??” yelled Libertarian. “That’s outrageous!”

“Calm down, friend. We have money to spare,” said Minarchist, pulling $5 out of his wallet and handing it to the face paint artist. Libertarian sighed and reluctantly reached around in his pocket.

“Uh, psst, Ancap,” whispered Post-Left. 

“Yes?”

“I kind of don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, pulling out $10.

“Thanks.”

“What?? Why doesn’t qui have to pay??” huffed Libertarian, crossing his arms.

“I’ll get quem to pay me back later.”

“When you guys are done, I’m ready to get started.” They all returned their attention to the man at the booth.

“My apologies,” said Ancap.

The face painter sat Post-Left down in the chair and pulled out a set of Sharpies. He took the black one out of the package and started to draw a sloppy looking outline of a heart on quis cheek. 

Minarchist turned to Ancap and Libertarian. “Are you guys sure about this?”

“We already paid, so I better get my damn face painted!” hissed Libertarian.

The man had just about finished on Post-Left, but the position of the blue and pink stripes on the flag was switched. Luckily, qui was the only one who would have known that, and there were (quite intentionally) no mirrors around.

“Who’s up next?”

Ancap stepped forward and sat down in the chair. When the cold tip of the black sharpie hit his skin, one thing he immediately noticed was that the person doing the face painting pressed down very hard. It was quite uncomfortable. The whole thing lasted no longer than two minutes, but it was agonizing the whole time. When his face paint was finally finished, he stood beside Post-Left.

“How does it look?” qui asked.

“It looks great,” grinned Ancap.

“Good, because the white marker was obviously drying out when he did yours.”

Ancap let out a chuckle. “Oh well. What did you say the flag was for again?”

“It’s the transgender pride flag. It’s basically when the gender you identify as is different from the one you were assigned at birth.”

“What?! That’s complete bullshit!” Ancap and Post-Left turned around to see Libertarian having yet another tantrum. “You mean to tell me you only have one white marker??”

“I’m sorry, but if you want, I can do a different design that doesn’t use white.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just give me the rainbow one then.”

The man drew a big X through the heart he had started on and moved to the other cheek. The other three struggled to hold in laughter due to how dumb it looked. They watched silently as he made the red stripe obviously too big, knowing full well that by the time he got to the purple there wouldn’t be enough room left for it. Sure enough, their predictions were correct.

“Why are you all looking at me like that??”

“No reason,” smirked Ancap.

Minarchist examined his options and made the wise decision to get the bisexual flag. At only three stripes, the probability of the artist messing it up was at a minimum. Alas, his careful consideration all went to waste, as the artist still drew the flag upside down.

“The drag show will start soon, so we should get going,” he suggested.

Post-Left led them to the stage area while they desperately scanned the area for a race track. When they arrived, there were only four chairs, and they were all occupied, so they had to stand. The counter-protestors gathered outside.

“You two with the trans flags are a cute couple!” yelled someone holding a “GOD HATES FAGS” sign outside the fence. He quickly corrected himself. “Or at least, you WOULD BE if it weren’t for LEVITICUS 18:22!!”

“Let’s piss them off,” whispered Post-Left into Ancap’s ear. He nodded in agreement.

“They’re not a couple!!” shouted Libertarian.

“What do you mean? Of course we are,” purred Ancap, reaching out to hold quis hand. Qui was filled with a lot of emotions qui didn’t think qui would feel. Qui knew it wasn’t real, but in this moment, qui kind of wanted to believe it was. The butterflies in quis stomach that qui had been trying to hold down had finally been let out of their cage.

At the same time, Libertarian’s gaze hardened. He felt sick. “I thought  _ we _ were married!”

“For tax purposes only!”

An audience had gathered around them now, fixated on the drama. No one even noticed that the drag queen had already come on stage, and she didn’t notice either because her lashes were so long they obscured around 90% of her vision. She picked up her walkie talkie.

“Are they in position?”

“Hmm, I think so.”

“Good. Deploying the trap, now!”

Suddenly, a scream erupted from the audience who had the luxury of sitting in the chairs as wrist and leg braces trapped them. Everyone turned back around just in time to see the drag queen rip off her wig and lashes to reveal… Homonationalism??

“We need to get out of here NOW,” commanded Post-Left, and qui didn’t have to say it twice. They began running toward the exit as fast as possible. 

“Get back here, degenerates!” cried Homonationalism, tripping in his 17” high heels.

Just as they were about to reach the exit, the face painting guy blocked their path.

“Not so fast! I bet you didn’t notice, but I’m actually Moderate Lee! When Identitarian gets here, you guys are gonna be toast!”

“What a relief,” breathed Ancap. “I’ll pay you $5 to move out of the way so we can escape.”

“No way! It’s gonna cost you a lot more than that!”

“$6?”

He thought about it for a couple seconds. “Okay. Deal.” He stepped aside to let them through the gate. It wasn’t until after the jet had already taken off that he noticed he’d been given monopoly money.


	10. Out With A Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a story chapter today, more wacky antics coming soon don't worry

Libertarian had been sulking in his room all night. He had refused to sleep in the same bed as Ancap, so he had retreated to his own personal room that he had set up down the hallway. It was almost lunchtime, and he still hadn’t come out. 

“Hey Libertarian, is everything alright?” Minarchist asked softly through the door.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no response.

“Libertarian, it’s okay. Can I come in? I brought you a sandwich.”

Sure enough, the door slowly opened, and Minarchist stepped inside.

“This is why we thought you would make a good tradwife, you know.”

Minarchist beamed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Libertarian sat down on his bed, and Minarchist sat beside him. “Does it seem like Ancap’s been acting different lately?”

“Well, no, not really,” answered Minarchist honestly. He quickly added, “But you know him better than me.”

“It’s just, ever since that Post-Left came here, it hasn’t been the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just feel like such a third wheel now,” he said, kicking at the floor. “It’s all Post-Left this, Post-Left that. I miss when it was just me and him. Well, and you, and Hoppean, but back then it was never like this. Nobody ever tried to steal my seat. And we never play a good gambling game anymore. Post-Left always wants to play some stupid kid game.”

Minarchist put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Libertarian. Ancap probably just wants quem to feel more welcome. Qui’s not as rich as us, you know.”

“Well that’s quis problem! And when we were at the pride parade, I can’t believe Ancap just paid for quis face painting! He never does that!”

“He said he was going to make quem pay him back later.”

“What do you think are the chances of that happening?” Libertarian continued, “And when he said our marriage ‘doesn’t count’, that was just hurtful. Their stupid prank wasn’t even that good either. They weren’t convincing at all. It would have been more realistic if he’d done it with me instead, since we’re actually married.”

Minarchist looked him in the eye. “Libertarian, do you like Ancap?”

“Of course I do, we’re best friends. Or at least, I thought we were…”

Minarchist giggled. “No, I mean… Do you  _ like _ like him?”

“What?! Why would you think that!?”

“It sounds like you’re jealous of Post-Left because  _ you _ wanted to hold Ancap’s hand.”

He was quiet for a good while, looking down at the floor. Minarchist’s comment had more truth to it than he was prepared to deal with. He kind of was upset that Ancap had decided to pretend to be Post-Left’s boyfriend and not his. More upset than he wanted to admit. And the entire time during the pride parade he had been secretly wishing Post-Left wasn’t there at all. Though he was loath to admit it, he cared about his relationship to Ancap more than any profits that could come from this ludicrous partnership. 

“It’s okay if you do, I’m not going to judge-”

“So what if I like him? This is about facts, not feelings. That doesn’t change the fact that we never play any good card games anymore.”

Minarchist smiled. “If it really means that much, I’ll play poker with you.”

“It’s not fun with only two players,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Do you want to go on a ride around Ancapistan, just to get out of the house?”

“Actually, I’d like that.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Good morning Postie,” greeted Ancap, who was currently in his office. “You’re just on time. I’m currently printing the script my marketing team just sent me for a commercial I want you to star in.”

“Yeah, well, I just wanted to give you this.” Qui handed Ancap the check he had given quem when qui was in the hospital.

Ancap looked at it and narrowed his eyes. He took off his shades and put on his reading glasses just to be sure.

“You only want one cent??”

Qui nodded. “You’ve already done enough for me.”

He smiled, relieved at quis naivety. “Is that so?”

“You guys are so much better than Tankie. All he ever did was yell at me to read theory and call me a capitalist spy. Well, I’m starting to see that maybe capitalists aren’t so bad after all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe I even liked him when you’re so much better.”

Ancap raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I like you like that, I mean, that’s not what I meant. Like as a friend. You’re a good friend.”

“Well Postie, I’m glad to hear that. In Ancapistan, we look after each other. There’s none of that constant leftist infighting I always hear about. Now come look at this script, I think you’ll like it.” He took the papers off the printer and handed it to quem. “All the lines highlighted in green are yours.”

Quis eyes scanned the page, and quis smile slowly turned into a frown as qui got further and further down.

“Ancap.”

“Yes?”

“If you air this commercial, I’m gonna bash your skull in.”

“What? Why?”

“Is that really a question you’re asking me right now?? My character is a stereotypical caricature of a gay guy, and I’m supposed to go by he/him pronouns??”

His gaze softened a little bit. “Postie, I know that’s not what you like to be called, but the general public just isn’t ready for qui/quem yet.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Ancap was taken aback by quis sudden outrage.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to have dysphoria, okay?! You have it so easy. People see you as a man and you don’t even have to try! You don’t have to deal with people constantly calling you the wrong pronouns and thinking you’re some kind of freak!”

“I- I’ll send them an email and tell them to change it.”

“Good!” Qui took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you Ancap, it’s just really fucking hard being constantly treated like shit by society.”

Ancap pulled quem in for a hug. “I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right to be upset, it was very… how do you say, problematic?”

Qui hugged him tighter. “Thanks Ancap.”

At that moment, Ancap’s phone rang. He pulled away from the hug and picked up.

“Minarchist, is everything alright?”

“Well, I’m in Libertarian’s helicopter right now. As we were landing, someone threw a bottle full of glue and glitter at us, and now the pilot can’t see where he’s going!”

“What do you want me to do about that?” asked Ancap.

“Nothing. This is more of a warning really.”

Just then, a loud crash was heard, and Post-Left & Ancap rushed out just in time to see the chopper obliterate a large portion of the roof.


	11. Rainbow Activism

When Libertarian opened his eyes, he was in what appeared to be some kind of dingy backstreet hospital. He was lying in a stiff, uncomfortable bed with only 5 pillows and a hideous golden silk blanket. A chandelier of fake plastic rhinestones hung overhead, and the walls were decorated with forgeries of famous paintings. 

“Ah, Libetrarian, you’re awake!” He turned his head to see Ancap sitting beside his bed with a bundle of flowers, and his initial snobbery melted away.

“Where’s Post-Left?”

“Qui isn’t here. It’s just you and me.”

“What about Minarchist?”

Ancap looked down. He didn’t respond right away.

“I-is he okay?”

Ancap looked up, his face sullen. “Minarchist… didn’t make it.”

“No… No, it can’t be. He was right there beside me. If I got off almost completely uninjured, he can’t have-”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Libertarian.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

He couldn’t keep the serious expression for any longer, so he burst out laughing. “You were right. Minarchist is fine.”

“You’re a total asshole, Ancap. I was worried for a second.”

“You’ve only just realized that?” he grinned. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

Libertarian sat up and then winced in pain. “Aughhh, my back!”

“Are you alright?”

“It hurts to move. Can you stay with me for a while?”

“But of course. You are my lawfully wedded husband after all, and we promised we’d be there for each other in sickness or health,” he joked.

Secretly, Libertarian was completely fine except for a small ache in his shoulder, but that was nothing. He just wanted to be alone with Ancap for a while. He knew the moment he said he was ready to leave, he would be whisked away to the next dumb adventure, but for now, he was tired. All he wanted was to rest. Here, with Ancap.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you marry me, Ancap?”

“For tax reasons, obviously. I thought that was quite clear when we signed the papers.”

“But why me? Why not Minarchist or Hoppean?”

He had to think about it for a few seconds. “Well Libertarian, you just seemed like you would be the most tolerable to live with. Hoppean would never have agreed in the first place, and Minarchist… He’s nice, but we’re just not as close as you and me.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, that and it would be horrifically awkward to kiss either of them. Or share a bed. Or do anything, really.”

“That’s what I don’t understand. We could have just signed the legal papers, but we didn’t. We kissed. We moved in together. We ‘experiment’ almost every night. That’s just too many experiments, Ancap.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to do it anymore?”

He should have just kept his mouth shut. Their marriage was going to get incredibly awkward if Ancap found out about Libertarian’s crush on him.

“No, of course not!”

“Then what are you saying?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You know what Ancap, forget I said all of that. It was stupid.”

“Yes, they must have put you on quite a few drugs. Maybe you should get some more sleep.”

“Maybe I should,” Libertarian responded. He didn’t want Ancap to leave, but of course now that he’d made it awkward, it was probably better for him to just pass it off as some kind of drug-induced delirium and go back to sleep.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Is Libertarian doing okay?” asked Minarchist. He, Post-Left, and Ancap were inspecting the damage in the mansion.

“I don’t know,” responded Ancap. “He seemed to be in a lot of pain, and when I was in there he started saying some very unusual things.”

“Like what?” Post-Left inquired.

“I don’t really remember much,” Ancap lied. “It was mostly incoherent.”

“Do you think he might have some kind of brain damage?” qui asked. “Well, more than normal?”

“Gods no. I’m sure he’ll be fine in due time. He just needed some more rest. Anyway, do we have any leads on Hoppean?”

“He’s just getting less and less sophisticated,” commented Minarchist. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been using any more advanced weaponry on us.”

“I don’t think it was Hoppean this time,” Post-Left said.

“What? Why not?” Ancap looked at quem with confusion.

“Well… When we were at Target, I saw Tankie’s basket. He was buying a ton of Elmer’s glue and glitter.”

“He must have been the one who threw the brick!” theorized Minarchist. “I knew it couldn’t have been Hoppean…”

“Do you think they’re collaborating?” speculated Ancap.

“I dunno, but it’s starting to seem like it’s us vs every other ideology. I mean it’s getting ridiculous. First Hoppean turned on us, then the fascists tried to capture us at the fake pride parade, now Tankie’s trying to sabotage us too? It just doesn’t make sense,” remarked Post-Left.

“Maybe… Maybe Libertarian was right,” whispered Ancap. “Maybe the world just isn’t ready for Rainbow Capitalism.”

“Who gives a shit?” qui replied. Qui never thought qui would be defending rainbow capitalism, but here qui was. “It shouldn’t be about whether or not the world is ‘ready’ for it. It’s about  _ making _ the world ready for it, dumbass.”

“No, Postie. That’s not what Rainbow Capitalism is about at all. Rainbow Capitalism is about supporting the gays only when it’s unquestionably profitable to do so. It’s about watering down leftist talking points until they’re uncontroversial platitudes akin to those found in a kindergarten classroom. And most of all, it’s about exploiting a group that’s vulnerable by pretending to care about them for a month and then forgetting about them for the other eleven. To do what you suggest would be to tarnish the name of Rainbow Capitalism.”

“Damn, that’s pretty based of you Ancap, but also you’re a piece of shit. At least you’re self-aware about it.”

Ancap continued. “I would never want to soil the reputation of Rainbow Capitalism, because it’s a beautiful thing. But I’ll never be able to profit from it if society never becomes accepting enough to where it can be used. So I won’t do Rainbow Capitalism just yet. But I  _ will _ do activism.”

Minarchist clapped supportively, but Post-Left still appeared skeptical. 

“No offense Ancap, but your entire empire is built on bullshitting people, so how do I know you're actually going to educate yourself and listen to queer voices?"

"I'll… I'll… make a tumblr account!"

Qui blinked. "Wow Ancap, I wasn't expecting that from you. I'm impressed."

"Do you really mean it?"

"Sure. Tumblr is so woke even I think it's getting a little too SJW snowflake-y sometimes. You're in good hands."

Just then, Libertarian called. It was funny how whenever Ancap didn't quite know how to respond to something, he would conveniently get a phone call from someone detailing the next disaster. 

"Yes, Libertarian?" 

"I just saw on the news there's a riot breaking out in the poor district. Someone has been handing out copies of The Communist Manifesto, and now they're talking about a class war."

"Those commies and their free handouts… They make me sick."

"Ancap, that's not all. They're violating the NAP by looting businesses and setting buildings on fire."

"What?!" shouted Ancap. "We can't let them get away with this! Tell them to send in the privately owned tanks!"

"You got it, Ancap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fellas is it gay to marry another man, live with him, and have sex with him


	12. Nighttime for Hitler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a reference to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zY1orxW8Aw
> 
> Thanks for all your comments guys, I really appreciate the positive feedback :)
> 
> Also TW: homophobia

Ancap had gotten zero sleep that night. Since Libertarian was gone and the roof over Post-Left's room had been destroyed, he had allowed quem to sleep in bed with him. This had quickly proven to be a mistake. Qui kept hogging the blanket, and just when he was about to go to sleep qui would inevitably kick him or start snoring loudly. Eventually, Ancap's phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he lazily picked it up to read the notification. Libertarian was texting him.

_ >You awake? _

_ >Regrettably, yes. _

_ >Can you come pick me up 🥺 _

_ >At 1:22 AM? _

_ >Im lonely :( _

Ancap sighed. Libertarian was always so needy and high-maintenance. However, there was absolutely no chance of him going back to sleep at this point, so he reluctantly climbed out of bed and threw on whatever clothes he had lying around.

“Where are you going?”

Libertarian was not going to be happy if he found out qui had been sleeping in their bed. 

“I’m picking up Libertarian from the hospital. Which means you’re going to have to move.”

“No fair,” qui groaned. “That’s homophobic.”

Ancap froze, remembering what he’d read on Tumblr earlier. Was he using his cis male privelege to silence queer voices?

Qui laughed. “Relax, Ancap. Ever heard of this thing called a joke before?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course, it was a very funny joke.”

“Are you implying homophobia is funny, you Nazi bigot?”

“At this point I don’t know whether or not you’re kidding, so I’m just going to offer you $10 to stop trespassing on Libertarian’s private property and go somewhere else.”

“But your bed is so comfy,” qui protested. “Where else am I supposed to sleep? The floor?”

“Go bother Minarchist or something.”

“Fine,” qui pouted, rolling out of bed. “But I want my $10 first.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Ancap!” smiled Libertarian, leaping up to hug him. “You came!”

“Of course. Consider yourself lucky I saw your text.”

“Thanks Ancap. You’re the best husband ever.”

“I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

Ancap squirmed uncomfortably, still locked in Libertarian’s embrace. “Erm, can you let go of me now? This is getting a little bit awkward.”

Embarrassed, Libertarian released him from his grasp. “Sorry.”

“Well, let’s get out of here.”

When they exited the building, Libertarian looked around for Ancap’s chopper or jet, but they were nowhere to be seen. Instead there was only a car, probably some Povertist’s.

“Uh, where’s the choppy?”

“It was too much of a hassle to summon it at this hour, so I decided to drive.”

Ancap got into the driver’s seat and Libertarian hesitantly climbed in next to him. “You know how to use one of these things?”

The car jerked to life, stalling out almost immediately after.

“Well, it has been quite a while since the last time I drove it.”

Libertarian gulped, already wishing he had just waited until the morning. He’d been secretly hoping for an unintentionally romantic nighttime ride through Ancapistan, but it looked like instead he was in for an unintentionally life-threatening one. Ancap was fiddling around with the key in the ignition next to him, and after a few seconds the engine came whirring back to life with a semi-concerning noise. 

“Is that normal?”

“Of course it is,” said Ancap, stepping on the gas. The car lurched forward, and Libertarian squeezed his eyes shut. He clutched the armrest tightly, not realizing that his husband’s hand was already there. 

“Are you… trying to hold my hand?”

“Uh, no!” blushed Libertarian. “A-aren’t you supposed to have both hands on the wheel?”

“Am I?” Ancap grinned. “It’s okay Libertarian, I’ll hold hands with you if you want.”

“You will?”

“Isn’t that something married people do? And we are married after all, so I suppose I have no choice.”

They had been holding hands for about fifteen seconds before a massive bump in the road sent them both crashing into the roof of the car at top speed.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” remarked Libertarian, rubbing his head. “You need to focus on driving.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” He swerved sharply around a colossal pothole he had only just seen ahead of them. “Why would I be distracted?”

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to admit it,” Libertarian muttered.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of the engine revving up, what did you say?”

The street lights and buildings whizzed by as the car sped up. “Wait, WHAT?! Ancap, we’re already going at least 10 mph over the speed limit!”

“Who’s going to stop me? There’s no state here.”

“I don’t think this is safe,” said Libertarian, gripping the armrest with white knuckles as they flew around another curve. “Do you even know where you’re going?!”

“Sure I do Libertarian, Google Maps has never failed me.”

“You know, I- I think I need to go to the bathroom, can we stop for a minute?”

“Of course, provided we can find a business foolish enough to stay open at this unprofitable hour.”

They didn’t find any open stores until they were already getting pretty close to the mansion. Libertarian was squirming around like a toddler who had barely just been potty trained by the time Ancap had pulled into a parking spot. They had arrived at a seedy looking gas station with one dim light and a flickering “Open” sign. Ancap could have sworn this place hadn’t been here before. 

“Are you sure you can’t hold it in until we get home?”

Libertarian shook his head.

“Alright. I’ll wait here for you,” he said, rolling down the windows and kicking his feet up on the dashboard.

Admittedly, this gas station looked pretty suspicious, especially given that it was situated on a road nobody had driven a car down in years. Everyone in this part of town was too rich for that. It was remarkable that such an establishment could stay in business. As he walked through the door, the cashier sized him up, probably trying to determine if he was a robber.

“Uh, where’s the bathroom?”

“Over there.” He pointed to a suspicious dark corner at the back of the store, but perhaps even more suspicious than that was the fact that he didn’t specify a minimum purchase before he was allowed access. Libertarian decided not to bring it up. He walked past the aisles that were clearly intended to hold a variety of junk food and various knick-knacks, but they were strangely empty. The only things on the shelves were a half-used bottle of hand sanitizer, a Snickers bar, and a bag of Frito’s.

The bathroom looked like nobody had cleaned it in the past four years. It also looked like nobody had used it during that span of time. Most of the paint on the wall had peeled away, the tiles were all cracked, and a rat scampered away as he walked in. Maybe he could hold in his pee for a little while longer after all. He turned around to leave, only to step in a bear trap that he somehow hadn’t noticed before. 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Ancap was playing Raid: Shadow Legends on his phone when another car pulled into the gas station parking lot. He looked up curiously, wondering who could possibly be driving a car at this time of day, at this time of year, in this part of the country, localized entirely within this particular street. The door opened, and a shadowy figure stepped out. Followed by another. And another. And another. Had a clown car gotten the address wrong for a 6 year old’s birthday party?  He was just about to go back to minding his own business when one of the shadowy figures spoke.

“You know Moderate Lee, when I first agreed to work with you, I knew you would be the weakest link. I knew I was making a sacrifice by bringing you on this team. But if I had known just how much of a miserable, spineless, pathetic coward you were, I would have killed you the second I had the chance.”

The voice and the overly dramatic monologue were a dead giveaway: White Identitarian and the International Union of Nationalists had just arrived, and something told Ancap this was no coincidence.

“You are less of a man than every queer that has ever come out of the closet. And I have far more respect for even the most disgusting degenerate among them than you…”

It was obvious that Nazi’s harangue wouldn’t be ending any time soon, so Ancap slipped out of his car and tiptoed quietly across the parking lot. Luckily, everyone was so transfixed by the speech that none of them spotted him. He slowly opened the door and dashed inside. Once he was in, he scanned the room for Libertarian, but locked eyes with the cashier instead.

“Do you happen to know where my husband went? He came in here a few minutes ago-”

The cashier let out an evil laugh. “Of course I know where he went. He fell straight into our trap.”

“W-what?”

He smiled mischievously, taping on an all too familiar piece of paper which said “Blackface.” Ancap’s eyes widened in shock immediately followed by rage.

“Where is he?!”

“He’s in the bathroom, of course. But I wouldn’t want you disrupting his privacy.” He reached under the cash register and pulled out a shotgun. By the time he had stood back up again, Ancap’s pistols were already drawn.

He narrowed his eyes. “Put your toys away, honkie, unless you want a face full of lead.”

“Sorry, but around here, we have a little thing called the NAP. And your threats are in clear violation of-”

Before Ancap could finish his sentence, a gunshot sounded from behind him, and Pan-Africanism dropped to the floor. He turned around to see Libertarian, who had limped out of the bathroom with his left foot still caught in the bear trap and a trail of blood behind him. He cautiously gripped his revolver.

“Ancap, are you okay?!”

“Yes, I’m fine. But I’m afraid if we stay here much longer, the rest of the International Union of Nationalists will-”

At just that moment, Nazi kicked down the door, and he was followed by Homofascist & Hoppean. 

“What were you saying about us?” he smirked.

“I hope it was good,” added Homofascist. “I do like some juicy gossip.”

Libertarian latched on to Ancap’s arm timidly. 

“I would advise you statists to politely fuck off,” said Ancap, cocking both his guns.

“We’re not afraid of you, Ancap. You like to act like you’re so tough, but your facade is paper thin. Your entire ideology is based on the exploitation and suffering of others, and yet when it actually comes down to it, you’re the weakest of all. You claim that capitalism is about survival of the fittest, but you have contributed far less to your society than even the poorest laborer. You spend your days wasting away in that extravagant mansion of yours hiding from the reality of our world, commodifying your culture and contributing to the downfall of your civilization by allowing moral subversion so long as it’s profitable to you.” He paused for dramatic effect. “You don’t stand for anything, Ancap. You care about nothing but your own hedonistic pursuit of profits. But us Nationalists, we have spines. We share our values and morality. We’re willing to kill and die for a cause that’s far greater than our own. And for that reason, we are destined to prevail while you sputter and die on the fringes of society. Capitalism may be the status quo now, but believe me, in ten years when the next economic depression comes around, we will be the ones ruling the world.”

Hoppean was shaken out of his trance when Nazi started going on about how capitalism would fail, and he looked around only to notice that Libertarian & Ancap weren’t there anymore.

“Uh, Identitarian?”

“Don’t interrupt me Hoppean, I’m getting to the best part.”

“I think they escaped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is there a male version of useless lesbians, because that's ancap & libertarian rn


	13. A Test of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe jreg copied my idea smhhhh

When Ancap and Libertarian arrived at the mansion, Libertarian stumbled out of the car and fell flat on his face. 

“Are you okay?” Ancap asked, offering his hand to help his husband off the ground. 

“I’ve fallen,” Libertarian groaned. His face scrunched up in pain as he fell back to the pavement. “And I can’t get up!”

“I’ll take you back to the hospital immediately.”

“Please don’t take me back there,” Libertarian pleaded. He moved his leg ever so slightly, and the metal teeth dug into his flesh, sending more blood pooling on the ground.

“What?! Why not?”

“Your driving will only make it worse. And we’ll have to go past the creepy gas station again.”

“But you’ll get blood all over our furniture!”

“We’re billionaires, and the healthcare in this city is still too expensive. It would probably cost us less to replace all that furniture than it would for you to take me back to the hospital for another day.”

“You didn’t really think I was worried about the furniture, did you?” Ancap chortled. He bent over and scooped up Libertarian, carrying him bridal style into the mansion. This was the second time he had soiled a good suit with someone else’s blood, but he wouldn’t worry about that until later. As he walked, he noticed Minarchist sleeping on the couch because of course he was. No doubt he had allowed Post-Left to sleep in his real bed. It was a very lucky thing that Ancap & Libertarian’s room was on the first floor, because Ancap didn’t know how much longer he would be able to carry his husband. He set him down on the bed as gently as possible.

“I’m going to get some bandages and call a doctor,” said Ancap, walking to the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Ancap. I love you.” 

_ Whoops. _ He hadn’t meant that. Well he meant it, but he wasn’t supposed to say it out loud. But at least Ancap was already half out the door and probably wouldn’t even notice and-

“I love you too.” With that, Ancap closed the door behind him and left.

What. WHAT. had just happened. Libertarian’s heart was pounding out of his chest. Did he really mean it?? Did he mean it, like, in a friend way?? Was he only saying it out of reflex?? Did he say it because it sounded like the kind of thing husbands would say to each other?? Should he ask about it when he came back?? He spent several minutes staring at the ceiling trying to process everything that was running through his head at the moment.

“I’m back.”

Libertarian’s heart fluttered a little as Ancap pulled up a chair beside the bed.

“There are no doctors available to come at the moment, so I’m going to have to extract that trap by myself.”

He hadn’t processed the ramifications of that statement until Ancap tried unsuccessfully to pry open the metal jaws of the contraption, only causing them to clamp down tighter. He yelped in pain.

“Stop moving, you’re making this more difficult!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

After several more painful failed attempts, Ancap finally managed to remove the bear trap from Libertarian’s leg. More blood gushed from the wound, and he quickly began wrapping it up in bandages.

“Ancap?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you have married me if it wasn’t profitable?”

Ancap didn’t answer right away, and Libertarian already regretted asking the question.

“Probably not, no,” he said, continuing dressing Libertarian’s injury.

“Oh.”

“If the question was whether or not I would stay married to you if it stopped being profitable, then yes.”

“Really?”

“I married you for tax reasons only, but there have been certain unforeseen benefits. Had I not already married you, then I wouldn’t know about them and therefore I wouldn’t marry you,” he added. 

“What kind of benefits?”

He was silent for a few more seconds, trying to think of a good way to phrase it without admitting anything, either to Libertarian or to himself, that he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

“Well, by pooling our wealth together, we can afford a much more luxurious mansion. And I can run my business ideas by you to see if they’re any good before I pitch them to my team.”

Libertarian was struggling to hide his disappointment. “Well, I guess those are good reasons.”

“Well, and-”

Libertarian perked up. “And?”

“No, never mind that…”

“Tell me.”

“Well…” he hesitated. “I must admit that it’s quite enjoyable doing the kinds of things married people do with you. Even though it’s not strictly profitable.”

“Are you talking about the sex?”

“...Well, among other things, yes. But that’s to be expected, you see. Humans are sexual creatures.”

“What other things?”

“Do you ever run out of questions, Libertarian?” He checked his watch. “It’s getting very late, so I think we both ought to get some sleep.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll let you have our bed to yourself for tonight. I don’t particularly want to sleep in your blood. I’ll go ask Minarchist for the couch.”

“But Ancap-” Libertarian protested.

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning with breakfast. Good night, Libertarian.” With that, he turned off the lights and exited the room.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Minarchist, who was now sleeping on the floor, had happily surrendered the couch to Ancap when he asked. What a pushover. It wasn’t very comfortable in comparison to the bed, but in truth, Ancap wasn’t expecting to sleep much. The night’s events had been so intense that his mind just couldn’t shut it all down. He worried for the security of Ancapistan, even though he had instructed his private police force to investigate the gas station and arrest any statists who might be lingering there. And he worried about Libertarian’s health, even though a doctor was scheduled to see him later on. 

But more than anything, their conversation had left Ancap deeply uncomfortable. He didn’t know exactly why, but he was starting to realize that he didn’t understand some of his own actions. He didn’t understand why he had decided to hold Libertarian’s hand, or why he had said “I love you too”. There was no profit or PR motive behind those actions. Instead, there was some strange third motive that didn’t directly tie to either of those things, which he had never really experienced before. 

And then, something occurred to him. Perhaps married couples did things like hold hands and say “I love you” because of the third motive. And they got married, not because of the tax cuts, but because they just wanted to be with each other. Because they were in love. 

There was only logical thing left to do. With bated breath and shaky fingers, he typed the fateful query into the Google search bar: “am i gay”

He clicked on the first link, knowing that there was no turning back now. Whatever this YouTube video said could change the course of his entire life and existence as he knew it. He was biting his nails as he watched the blue-haired libtard explain the early symptoms of homosexuality, his mind racing as fast as his pulse. What the YouTuber was saying hit a little too close to home. But then he was reassured that no YouTube video could decide his sexuality for him, so he couldn’t possibly take it too seriously. Sure, he related to a lot of the things the guy in the video said, but not all of them, so he could hardly draw any conclusions. He clicked on the next video, hoping it would offer more clarity.

Thirteen videos later, Ancap was at his wit’s end. The evidence was piling up, and Ancap knew deep down that the facts didn’t care about his feelings. Except that the facts were about his feelings. Were there any facts, or were there only feelings? He didn't have the energy to think about that tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who else had that phase where you binged a ton of youtube videos & online quizzes in hopes that one of them would tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt what your sexuality was while secretly knowing the whole time but not wanting to admit it


	14. The Green New Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jreg: uploads centricide 6.5  
> me: im gonna pretend i didnt see that

Post-Left wasn't much a fan of politics these days. Qui had realized that in most cases, it was just a bunch of people yelling the same few talking points at each other, only ever creating marginal changes. In quis Ancom days, qui had hated the centrists, but now qui sympathized with them more. Qui was too cynical to think that modern-day politics would ever bring about meaningful change. But one thing qui could respect was when the common people had enough. There were few things more beautiful than when people came together and decided that if politics weren't going to fix their communities, they would take matters into their own hands. Sadly, it seldom led to more than a few small concessions by the state after a prolonged period of brutal suppression, but in the moment, those people had hope. The world they wanted would never be allowed to exist, but for now they believed it could, and that made them stronger than any state. It was almost enough to make Post-Left start actually believing in something again.

Of course, when qui heard about the riots breaking out in the poor district, qui had secretly been excited. Qui had pretended to be upset about the destruction of private property, but in reality qui only said that to appeal to the rightists. So when qui found out about Libertarian's injury, and neither he nor Ancap had left their room all morning, qui figured now would be a good time for quem to sneak out unnoticed.

Qui knew there was a chance Tankie would be there, seeing as he was probably the one who started this whole thing, so qui made sure qui was as unrecognizable as possible in quis black bloc attire. The only part of quis body not covered up was quis eyes. Qui picked up quis trusty bat and simply left the mansion without telling anybody, leaving a short note claiming that qui had gone to the store in case anybody wanted to check on quem (which was unlikely anyway). 

As qui strolled down the streets of Ancapistan, qui felt strangely liberated. This was the first time since the night qui had come to Ancapistan that qui had really gotten the chance to explore on quis own. Though Ancap, Minarchist, and to a lesser extent Libertarian were tolerant of quem, at the end of the day, qui still knew qui was living under a corporate boot. Some time to quemself was all qui had needed, really, and for once these lonely, ad-infested, pollution-filled, poorly maintained streets didn't feel so bad. Qui had been suffocating, and qui hadn’t even realized it until qui finally had a breath of (admittedly not very fresh) air.

This momentary peace was dissolved when qui neared the poor district. The smell of smoke filled the air, and broken glass littered the streets. As qui got closer, qui began to see bullet shells and craters which had been no doubt caused by bombs. There was a tank pulled off to the side of the road. It was covered in graffiti, and the charred metal told Post-Left that this vehicle had been the victim of the rioters. But how many others were there? The area was strangely silent. Qui didn’t hear the chants of protestors, or the windows shattering, or the sound of gunfire. It was disquietingly quiet.

Another figure also wandered the streets, his head down and his step filled with solemnity. This man qui instantly recognized as Tankie.

“You are too late, Anarkiddy.”

Qui had hoped he hadn’t seen quem, but there was no escaping now as the statist approached. Somehow, qui didn’t feel the same need to distance quemself from the communist as qui had in Target. Maybe qui would be willing to hear him out, just this once. As long as he was still in the headspace of wanting to escape capitalism.

“You were sent here by the kulaks, Да?”

Qui shook quis head. “No, they don’t know I’m here.”

“Then why did you come? Just to torment me?”

“I don’t really care enough to sneak out and walk all the way here just to ‘torment you’ or whatever. I came here because I felt like it.”

“You are a class traitor.”

“What was I supposed to do? Starve on the streets? Believe me Tankie, I’m not the biggest fan of Ancapistan, but I would much rather live here than in a cardboard box under a bridge. ”

“You are still the slave of capital. You are just complacent in it now.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s sort of why I came to the Poor District. I’m getting tired of it.”

He looked up. “So… You’re not here to sabotage the revolution?”

“You know Tankie, believe it or not, I’m still an anarchist. The only difference is I’ve kind of realized there will never be a revolution. Even if there was, you would just take over, and it will all have been pointless. The only difference is the boot we have to lick will be red. The average person’s life isn’t gonna change much. I know capitalism is evil and oppressive or whatever, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Join the revolution, comrade.”

For a brief second, Tankie could have sworn he saw quem flash green. Just for a second, and then qui was back to the same dead grey qui always was.

“All you want is to take advantage of me.”

“So do the kulaks. But all they care about is profit. I want to make the world a better place for you.”

If he had blinked, he would have missed it. But it was unmistakable - Ancom’s green. Maybe there was hope for Post-Left.

“I know you never liked to read theory, but this is short,” he said, handing a copy of The Communist Manifesto to quem. Much to his surprise, qui accepted it. “The revolution is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, whatever, Commie. I probably won’t even read this. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Without another word, Post-Left slipped the pamphlet into quis jacket where the capitalists wouldn’t be able to see it and began the long walk back to the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be so honest I've already written ahead and the new episode kind of messes up the plot so either i'm gonna have to work something out or y'all are gonna have to pretend like centricide 6.5 didn't happen we'll see
> 
> Next chapter is more exciting and wacky I promise


	15. Body Odor Railroad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken. Idk why I freaked out yesterday about centricide 6.5 because it's not like this fic or any of the others on this site really follow the canon, so get ready for some more wacky non-canon-compliant antics

Today was Minarchist's big day: the day he would finally be able to interview for a position at the International Union of Nationalists. They had been waiting on this opportunity for a while. Minarchist was nervously pacing up and down the hallway in front of Ancap & Libertarian’s room, practicing how to walk in his high heels.

"Move your hips more!" qui called.

He stopped focusing on his footwork to pay more attention on the movement of his hips for a second too long and tripped over, falling spectacularly to the ground.

"This is hopeless," sighed Libertarian, still bedridden with his injury. "He looks like a man in a wig and a dress."

"He'll be more convincing with the makeup," reassured Post-Left.

"I certainly hope so. I'm most concerned about his voice,” said Ancap.

Qui shrugged. "How many women has the Nazi talked to in his lifetime anyway?"

Minarchist sat down. “My feet are already starting to hurt in these shoes.”

“In that case, we’ll do your makeup now,” Ancap grinned.

He and Post-Left took him to the bathroom, where he sat down on the lid of the toilet. “You guys know how to do this, right?”

The two of them exchanged glances. 

“Not to worry Minarchist, I found a wikihow tutorial online,” reassured Ancap.

“Yeah, and I’ve worn lipstick a few times. I even put on eyeliner once,” Post-Left added.

“I trust you guys.”

Ancap pulled out a tube of foundation he & Post-Left had picked out at Sephora using nothing but a photo reference. 

“Close your eyes,” instructed Ancap, squirting out several pumps of the liquid onto Minarchist’s face. Compared to his real skin tone, it looked like a liver-failure yellow. He began rubbing it in with the tips of his fingers, caking on enough to cover the faint outline of the sharpie bi pride heart that was still on his cheek. Meanwhile, Post-Left was reading the wikihow article.

“Hey Ancap, do you think he needs concealer?”

Ancap eyed Minarchist’s face, which was now about an inch thicker. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Yeah, okay. Now it says to add bronzer, contour, highlighter, and blush.”

“I’ve never heard of the first two, so they probably aren’t important,” replied Ancap. “But the highlighter and blush are doable.”

He took out an eyeshadow brush and began swirling it around in the pan, picking up way too much blush. He applied it all over Minarchist’s cheeks, the red tone combining with the yellow foundation to make his face look orange.

“What about the highlighter?” qui reminded.

“Ah yes, let me go get it,” Ancap responded, leaving the room for a couple minutes. When he returned, he uncapped an orange highlighter.

“This color seems like it would match.”

He began drawing all over Minarchist’s cheeks, clearly unsure of exactly where highlighter was supposed to go.

“I dunno Ancap, it looks weird,” qui frowned. “Are you sure you weren’t supposed to use yellow?”

“It’ll be fine. What’s the next step?”

Qui scrolled down. “I think the eye makeup.”

Ancap moved aside to make room for quem. “This is your area of expertise.”

Qui picked up the palette they had chosen, a vibrant rainbow palette with barely any mattes and no neutral tones. 

“Alright Min, what’s your favorite color?”

“It’s a tie between blue and yellow,” he responded naively, not understanding what he had gotten himself into.

“Okay, do you want it to be glittery or matte?” 

He paused to think. “Glittery is more feminine, right?”

“Good point,” qui replied, enthusiastically dipping the same brush Ancap had used for the blush into a shimmery dark blue shade. He applied it to Minarchist’s eyelid with great precision, but alas, it looked kind of like he had a black eye. A problem qui would avoid on the left eye by using a really pale yellow that barely showed up on his skin. 

“How does it look so far?” asked Minarchist, his eyes still dutifully closed.

“It’s a work in progress,” said Ancap. He secretly thought it looked pretty bad, but then again, what would he know about makeup?

“Min, I’m gonna need you to be as still as possible while I do the eyeliner, okay?”

He nodded, and Post-Left’s hand trembled as qui unscrewed the lid of the liquid liner qui had picked out. It was supposedly harder to do than pencil eyeliner, but qui liked the look much better. Qui had never felt so powerful as qui did when the brush came into contact with Minarchist’s eyelid, though with great power came a great responsibility that qui wasn’t quite sure qui was ready for. This would be the make or break moment for the look. 

Qui held quis breath as qui drew the edge of the first wing. So far, so good, but there was still plenty of opportunity for quem to screw it all up. Slowly, qui dragged the very tip of the brush along his lash line, making it as smooth as possible. All of quis fears melted away as qui connected up the wing, having just created the perfect cat eye. 

“Hey Ancap, how does it look?”

Ancap leaned in to get a closer look. When it came into view, he was taken aback. “Why Postie, it’s… it’s perfect.”

Filled with a new confidence, qui got to work on the other eye. Somehow, through a miracle of nature, qui managed to catch lightning in a bottle twice. When Minarchist opened his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his eyeliner was evenly thick on both eyes, the wings protruded at roughly the same angle, and the line was smooth as a baby’s bottom. The gods of makeup must have taken pity after seeing the rest of Minarchist’s face, so they had come down to bless Post-Left with the power of doing good eyeliner. Qui finished off with some mascara, and then, it was time to move on to quis forte: the lipstick.

“What color do you want?” qui asked, holding up the options. Qui only owned a purple, a blue, and a sparkly black liquid lipstick.

“Those surely can’t be the only colors you have,” objected Ancap. “Why aren’t there any normal ones?”

“I’ll go with the sparkly black, to match my eyeshadow,” said Minarchist, his eyes glittering with excitement in both the literal and figurative sense. 

Qui set aside the other tubes and opened up the lid, dipping the wand into the lipstick and applying it to Minarchist’s lips. Qui admittedly struggled to stay within the lines; by the time qui was finished, his lips were pretty severely overlined, but it was too late to fix it now. Qui stepped back to admire quis work.

“You can look in the mirror now.”

Minarchist got up excitedly, unable to wait any longer. Once he actually saw himself, he had to take a little while to process the disaster that was happening on his face.

“So, are you satisfied with our services?” asked Ancap.

Minarchist, being too polite to tell them it looked like a preschool class had been unleashed on his face, smiled politely and nodded his head.

“Good, good. Now, we should best be on our way if we don’t want to be late.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“So what are we playing today?” asked Minarchist. “Poker?”

“Actually, Minarchist, I was thinking we could do something else,” said Libertarian, an evil glint in his eye. His crutches rested on the wall next to him. 

“What’s that?” asked Ancap.

He shot them a sinister smile. “Portable Monopoly.”

Post-Left glanced around nervously. “Are you sure? It takes hours to finish a game…”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object qui couldn’t quite make out until he placed it down on the table. It was a red cube with various symbols inscribed on it. “Behold… The fast die.”

“What does it do?” qui asked, in awe of the rare object before quem.

“If you get a number, add that much to your roll. If you get the bus, you can choose the number on one of the dice and move forward that many spaces. And if you get old Uncle Pennybags… Go to the nearest property you don’t own, ignoring the number you rolled.”

Libertarian opened the box, dumping all its contents onto the table. It was a mad scramble to pick a piece; after the dust had cleared, Post-Left managed to end up with the lowly thimble. Of course, Minarchist had already begun distributing the starting money to everyone. Qui noticed immediately that “Income Tax” had been crossed out in Sharpie and replaced with “$200 parking”.

“A-are there any house rules I should know about?” qui asked, trying to mask the fear in quis voice. 

“Oh, only one,” he grinned. “Snake eyes send you to jail immediately.”

“I’ve never heard of that one before,” qui commented.

“Well, if there are no more questions,” Libertarian announced, “Let the game begin!!”

The Monopoly game seemed to exist in a separate reality. They all lost track of time as the vicious scramble for properties began. The pile of title deeds grew ever smaller as the players ruthlessly expanded their economic empires across the board. Every space from Mediterranean Avenue to Boardwalk was a financial battleground, and money changed hands at dizzying speeds. Well, with the exception of Post-Left, who had rolled snake eyes on quis first turn and was rotting in prison while all the best properties were snatched up.

Libertarian, for one, was quite relieved that qui had returned to quis rightful place today. Unbeknownst to quem and Minarchist, he and Ancap had a secret under-the-table alliance. All thanks to their superior strategies, they now held the majority of the properties between them. But alas, the plane landed just as the game was starting to get good.

“I suppose we’ll have to continue this on the way back,” sighed Ancap.

Minarchist stood up from his seat, adjusting his wig. “I’m starting to get nervous that they’ll see right through me.”

“You’ve done plenty of interviews before Minarchist, this one should be no different. Just be yourself,” advised Ancap.

“You got this, Min!” cheered Post-Left.

“Thanks, guys,” he said, smiling back at them one last time before leaving the jet.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“I take it the interview went poorly,” said Ancap as Minarchist came back on board 5 minutes later.

“Well, it was worth a try,” he replied. “They said I looked like a faggot autogynephile degenerate.”

Libertarian grinned evilly. “Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to go back to our game then.”

“Whose turn was it?” asked Post-Left.

“I think it was Ancap’s,” responded Minarchist, handing him the dice. He rolled and landed on Mediterranean Avenue, paying Libertarian a staggering $2 in rent.

“Hey Ancap, what do you want in exchange for Boardwalk?” asked Post-Left, whose only properties consisted of Park Place, B&O Railroad, Baltic Avenue, St. James Place, and the dreaded Electric Company.

“You want Boardwalk, do you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well then, you’ll have to make me an offer so good I can’t refuse.”

“Uh… Uh… I’ll give you Baltic?”

“Throw in B&O and it’s a deal.”

“Are you serious?? I’m not trading two properties for just one. That’s a bad deal. Especially if it gives you all four railroads.”

Ancap chortled menacingly. “Fine, if you don’t want to give me the railroad, I suppose I could settle for $500 in cash.”

Qui had a mini heart attack when qui heard the price: it was simply too expensive. “300,” qui countered timidly, quis voice seemingly an octave higher than usual.

“The least I’ll do is 400. Take it or leave it.”

All eyes turned to Post-Left as qui debated whether or not to take the deal. Finally, realizing it was a worthy price to pay for the most expensive set in the game, qui agreed.

“You’re going to regret that,” said Ancap with a smug grin. He immediately put $300 into the bank, reaching triumphantly into the bag for the first six houses on the board. 

“But you don’t own the set!!” cried Post-Left.

“What do you mean? Of course I own the set,” he said, holding up the deeds.

“B-but Libertarian had Mediterranean…”

“Easy. I traded him,” replied Libertarian with a sinister look in his eye.

Qui didn’t remember this event transpiring, but qui was forced to accept it. Ancap passed the dice to Libertarian, who rolled a 5 and landed on Free Parking. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he passed the dice to Post-Left, who was now poised dangerously close to Hoppean’s worst nightmare: the brown territory.

“Wait a minute, before you roll, I want to spend an additional $200 and upgrade to a hotel on both properties,” Ancap announced.

It was now Post-Left’s turn to be smug. “Too bad asshole, it’s not your turn.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” smiled Libertarian, handing quem the rulebook. “He can buy houses and hotels at any time he wants.”

Quis heart rate increased as qui watched him demolish the green houses and replace them with the fearsome hotels. Qui gulped, taking the dice in quis trembling hands. When qui finally rolled, qui breathed a sigh of relief. Qui had gotten a 12, taking quem safely past the bankruptcy zone.

“Ah ah, not so fast, Postie. You didn’t roll the third die.”

Quis stomach churned as the red die rolled onto the floor. Qui peeked over the edge of the table, afraid of the results. What qui saw sent a chill down quis spine: looking back at quem was the daunting image of Uncle Pennybags.

The $200 qui got for passing Go was barely enough to help pay the rent for Mediterranean. But just as qui was about to pass the dice to Minarchist, Libertarian stopped quem.

“Don’t give those to him just yet, Post-Left. You got a double, which means you have to roll again.”

Qui resigned quemself to quis fate, rolling the dice once more and bracing for the worst. Of course, the worst came true. Qui rolled another Grim Reaper and was forced to advance to Baltic Avenue. 

“Ancap, I can’t afford the rent.”

“Well then, it looks like you’ll have to mortgage your properties.”

Libertarian and Ancap watched in delight as qui was forced to turn over quis beloved cards, trying to scrape together enough money to afford Ancap’s unbelievable prices (which qui suspected were marked up from what it really said on the card). Finally, after quis spirit had been thoroughly crushed into a fine dust, qui passed the dice to Minarchist, who immediately landed on one of quis mortgaged properties.

“Come on, that’s bullshit!!” 

“You just sound like a sore loser,” smirked Ancap. 

When it finally came back to Post-Left’s turn again, qui rolled quis third Uncle Pennybags in a row. Sighing, qui moved quis thimble to Oriental Avenue.

“Not so fast, Postie,” Ancap smiled, holding out his hand expectantly. “Railroads count as properties.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized a couple days ago that half this fic is me vicariously playing cards/games through the characters. ready for quarantine to end already :/
> 
> and yes I have won monopoly with the brown color set before not to brag or anything >:)))


	16. The Lavender Scare

It was annoyingly early in the morning, and Ancap had called everyone into a meeting. Post-Left was still upset with him since that fateful round of Monopoly; qui was almost certain he cheated somehow, but qui didn’t have any real evidence. The Little Caesars pizza was already waiting on the table when everyone showed up. It was honestly the only thing that had motivated quem to get out of bed at this hour. But Libertarian and Minarchist were experienced, and they knew this could only mean one thing - the meeting was going to get serious.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re gathered here today. Well, I have some important information regarding the future of our company. Minarchist, can you turn on the projector?”

“Sure thing, friend!” he replied, getting up to press the “on” button. The first slide of a PowerPoint appeared on the whiteboard behind Ancap. It showed a generic graph with unlabelled axes and a zigzaggy red line trending upwards.

“This graph represents our profits. As you can see, they’ve been steadily growing over the past two-year period. Now, I’d like to point out that there were two main events which caused our profits to spike. First we have the opening of my notorious slur emporium, which was extremely successful until I decided to shut it down in light of the many controversies surrounding it. The other spike occurred around the time Libertarian and I got married.”

He clicked the remote to move to the next slide, which showed a suspiciously similar graph except flipped upside down and with a blue line. “And here we have a graph showing the level of diversity in upper management of the corporations in Ancapistan. Which, as you can see, has an almost 1:1 correlation with people’s level of satisfaction with corporate management.” He clicked the button to reveal a green line, which looked suspiciously like a stretched out version of the previous graph, overlaid on top of the blue graph.

“Ancap, where are you going with this?” asked Libertarian. 

“I’m getting there, don’t worry. Now,” he said, moving on to the next slide, which showed a pie chart. “In focus groups, 66% of people rated perceived brand authenticity as a main factor contributing to their perception of a brand. To put this in context, 72% of people said that brand image played a major role in determining whether or not they would purchase a product. In addition, 63% said they would be more likely to support a company if it took a stance on social issues that were important to them.”

Post-Left went in for quis third slice of pizza. “You’re obviously about to say something completely ridiculous, so you may as well just tell us already.”

“This will all make sense in a minute. Listen-” he clicked back to the first slide. “This graph shows our projected profits after the measure I’m about to propose. And it’s all based on the data I showed you. Our profits soared when me & Libertarian got married. You see, people like diversity. They like slurs. And they like authenticity. I have fourteen independent studies which all confirm the results, which is why I’ve made the executive decision to come out as gay.”

Qui stood up, pizza in one hand and paper plate in the other. “Ancap, if you don’t fuck off with that bullshit, I’m gonna fucking bash your skull in.”

“Post-Left, I can assure you that there is absolutely no bullshit-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Everything you just said was 100% bullshit. None of your little ‘graphs’ are even real. I know you want your stupid ad campaign to be a hit or whatever, but this is too far.”

“But the fourteen studies-”

“I don’t give a shit. If you really want to seem progressive, why not come out as trans too? Why not come out as a fucking stargender? I never thought I’d say this, but you’re a fucking trender.” Qui stormed out of the room, leaving Ancap standing there in silence.

“Psst, Ancap,” whispered Minarchist. “I think your idea is genius. I wish I was that good at coming up with ideas.”

Ancap shook his head. “I thought of all people, qui would understand.”

“Ancap, you’ve always known qui’s an SJW. Where’s the harm in a little white lie if it can boost our profits that much?” reassured Libertarian.

“Well, qui did make a good point. You should come out as trans too. Go big or go home, right?” chipped in Minarchist.

“But I’m not trans,” Ancap replied, a slight quiver to his voice.

“You can pretend you had the surgeries years ago, no one will be able to tell,” Libertarian suggested.

“Yeah, we’ll play along with it if you want us to,” added Minarchist. “How does that sound, Ancap?”

He didn’t respond. 

“Ancap?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he responded, suddenly pushing in his chair and heading for the door.

Libertarian stood up and started after him. “Ancap, wait-” 

He was held back by Minarchist. “I think he needs some time to himself.”

Reluctantly, he sat back down. “The last time I saw him get that emotional was when the IRS agents came last year. Do you think he’s okay?”

“I mean, Post-Left was pretty harsh on him. He must have really thought this was a great idea.”

“That’s true. He’d clearly done a lot of research into it, although I wonder why the levels of diversity in corporate upper management dipped around the same time me & Ancap got married. Do you think they might be related?”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"Hey Ancap, can I come in?" Libertarian asked, knocking softly.

"I suppose since this is our jointly shared property, you can," he sniffed, opening the door. 

Libertarian gave him a look of sympathy. "Is everything okay?"

"I don’t understand why Post-Left is being so homophobic," he sighed.

"I've never seen something like this bother you so much."

"Thanks Libertarian, I know I'm being an SJW, okay? No need to rub it in."

"No, no, it's okay. You can talk to me about it."

"It's just… I don't know why qui won’t accept me."

"Well Ancap, qui just doesn’t understand that sometimes you gotta play a little dirty if you want to make a profit. Qui just doesn't know what a genius you are."

"But I'm not. I fabricated all the numbers. The charts weren't even real. It was just the same clipart I found online," Ancap sobbed. 

“But what about the fourteen studies?”

“You want to know what the studies were? I’ll tell you,” he choked. “They were videos on YouTube about how to know if you’re gay.”

Libertarian froze, unsure of how to react. "Ancap… Are you actually gay?"

He nodded.

"Well why didn't you say so??" Libertarian smiled, wrapping his arms around Ancap. "You made it sound like it was all some sort of marketing strategy!"

"I didn't know how everyone would react unless I proved it was profitable."

"Ancap, we're not Hoppean. We don't care what you are so long as you don't violate the NAP."

"But Post-Left…"

"Forget about Post-Left. Qui's a little son of a bitch."

"Yes, qui really is problematic."

There was a moment of silence between them before Libertarian spoke.

"You know, Ancap, I wasn't sure how to tell you this until now… but I'm gay too."

"You are?"

"Yeah... And also...uhh... ikindofhaveacrushonyou?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

The room went silent for a second, and Libertarian started to panic inside.

“Libertarian… I thought you would never admit it.” Ancap smiled, wiping away his tears. “I feel the same way.”

“You mean it!? Unironically!?”

“Unironically.” 

Libertarian felt like he was about to explode with excitement. “Oh my god. Ancap, I’m so happy I tax evasion married you!!!”

"Well, I suppose this can mean only one thing… We're not tax evasion husbands anymore. We're just regular husbands."

“Should we… unironically… uh… hold hands??”

“We can do more than that,” Ancap winked.

“Okay, but first we have to get revenge on Post-Left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh another boring story chapter?? ewww


	17. Forced Diversity

Post-Left was seeing red. Namely, the red cover of the Communist Manifesto lying on quis makeshift bed (which was pretty much just a mattress on the floor in a storage room). Qui couldn’t believe Ancap had decided to masquerade as queer just to sell products during Pride Month. Qui had really started to think he cared about being a good ally, but qui had been too naive. Deep down, qui had always known queer liberation was impossible under capitalism, but something about Ancap made quem believe. But now; now he had revealed his true colors.

Qui decided to read the book - an unprecedented move for quem. However, two pages in, qui came to a realization that there was simply no getting around. A fundamental flaw in Marxist theory that could potentially undermine everything the Left fought for - the number of times the book would say “in a word:” followed by multiple words. What kind of a nerd would actually have the patience for this excessively verbose, excessively boring book? Qui set aside the Manifesto and decided to get a snack instead.

Qui was peacefully walking down the stairs when all of a sudden quis feet rolled out from under quem. Qui looked down only to see an ocean of marbles, but by then it was too late, because qui had already fallen onto one of the stereotypical luggage racks found in a hotel. It rolled a short while before hitting an expertly placed bump under the rug, the sudden stop sending quem flying into a set of dominoes of increasing size. Qui watched nervously as they fell until they finally activated a comically large boot to kick a bucket which contained a basketball. The ball rolled down a slide, activating a yarn tripwire that sent a hammer swinging down from the ceiling. Qui could only look on in amazement as this hammer slammed into a brick which was standing upright on a shelf, knocking it onto a seesaw that launched a can into the air, which landed on a button that poured a bucket of slime on quem.

Qui was fuming. Qui just couldn’t believe qui had fallen for this needlessly elaborate Home Alone meets Mousetrap style contraption that took an impractically long time to activate and had such a disappointing payoff. 

“Who the fuck set up this trap??” qui yelled. 

“Ah, Post-Left, we’ve been expecting you,” grinned Ancap, stepping out of the shadows. Libertarian stepped up beside him, holding his hand and laughing uncontrollably.

The slime was pooling around quis feet. “What the fuck guys??” 

“Consider this revenge,” Libertarian smirked.

“For what??”

“Gatekeeping the LGBT community and invalidating my identity,” replied Ancap.

Qui rolled quis eyes. “Yeah sure Ancap, the only problem is you’re not gay and only care about profits.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re not, you-”

Ancap pulled Libertarian into a passionate kiss which lasted for what seemed like an eternity to quem but no time at all for them. At that moment, Ancap and Libertarian were the only people in the world. They could hear the rhythm of each other’s heartbeats, the song of their love drowning out anything else. They were intoxicated with each other’s lips, addicted to each other’s touch. It was raw, it was intense, it was everything either of them could have dreamed of. 

When they were finished, Post-Left eyed them skeptically. “Come on, that doesn’t prove anything.”

“What more proof do you need?” sighed Ancap, frustrated.

“There’s only one way to be sure,” qui said, quis face suddenly serious. Qui handed him quis phone, which was open to a Buzzfeed quiz.

While Ancap read the first question, there was enough tension in the air that it might snap. Libertarian peeked over his shoulder to see what it was asking.

_ Question 1: Have you ever been attracted to the same sex? _

He froze, unsure of just how to respond. The two choices stared back at him, leaving no room for uncertainty. He carefully considered the options before finally clicking the button which said “yes”.

_ Question 2: Do you fantasize about the same sex? _

“This is ridiculous, do I really have to continue?” 

Post-Left shot him a glare. “You’re only nervous because you’re about to get caught out in your lie. Finish the test.”

He sighed and pressed “yes”, moving on to the next question.

_ Question 3: Would your ideal partner be the same sex, opposite sex, or does it matter? _

All 50 questions of the quiz were variants of the same question. In fact, it was impressive they managed to find so many ways to phrase it, although the test would be utterly unhelpful unless the person taking it already had a firm grasp on their sexuality (or at least was intent on getting a specific result). Finally, after several minutes, he showed Post-Left his result. 

Qui was silent for a few seconds as qui read the page. Finally, qui looked up, remorse filling quis eyes. “I guess… I guess I owe you an apology.”

“Damn right you do!” responded Libertarian.

“Ancap… I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that, I-” qui was stumbling over quis words. “I really hope I didn’t make you feel shitty about your identity because when I came out everyone told me it was just a phase and it was so fucking annoying. You’re incredibly valid and based.”

Qui moved to hug Ancap, still covered in slime. He tried to dodge quem, but it was no use. The slime was unavoidable. But in the eternity he spent wrapped up in the inescapable embrace of acceptance, he devised a diabolical plan.

“Well, Postie, I’m not the only one who’s gay. So is Libertarian,” he smirked. 

“Ancap, it’s not good to out people,” qui replied sternly. Qui turned to Libertarian. “But are you?!” 

“Yes, but I’m not taking that damn quiz-” he was cut off by quem hugging him. 

“No need, Libertarian,” qui smiled. “I knew that already.”

“What?? How??”

“It was so obvious you had a crush on Ancap.” Qui pulled away, suddenly looking slightly forlorn. “Are you guys… you know… actually together now?”

“Yes. And we couldn’t be happier,” replied Ancap with a huge smile. 

Qui broke eye contact, struggling to feign a smile. “That’s great. I’m happy for you guys.”

Qui, in fact, wasn't happy for them. Qui felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside of quem, but qui couldn't say happiness was one. 

“Well, thanks,” said Libertarian. 

“I guess Minarchist is the only straight one now,” Ancap chortled.

“We should go tell him!” suggested Libertarian, childish excitement in his eyes. “Quick, get the pride flags!”

Ancap rushed to their bedroom and quickly returned with all of the wacky merchandise they had purchased specifically for the pride parade. He took the big rainbow flag and wrapped it around he & Libertarian’s shoulders.

“Wow, you guys are such baby gays,” commented Post-Left.

“Shut up Postie, don’t act like you don’t have all those pride flags in your room.”

“Yeah, okay, true.”

They paraded around the first floor of the mansion in search of Minarchist. When they finally found him, he was making pancakes in the kitchen and listening to some music. He obviously didn't notice them approaching.

"Hey Minarchist, we're gay!" yelled Ancap, blowing an air horn which also shot out rainbow confetti.

He jumped, flipping the pancake onto the floor. He took out one earbud and turned to face them, smiling politely. "Cool beans.”

"That's all you have to say to us, you straightie? You goddamn breeder?" Libertarian sneered. 

"Come on Libertarian, you've been out of the closet for ten minutes," replied Post-Left, holding back quis laughter.

"Well technically if you count Ancap it was twenty minutes. And come to think about it I actually told Minarchist a while ago…"

"What?? You came out to him before me??" asked Ancap, slightly offended.

"He asked me, okay? Look, the point is that we're now much more profitable than him. How does it feel to be straight, Minarchist?" 

"Well actually I'm bisexual, but it feels good I guess."

"WHAT??" the other three cried.

"No offense, but this just seems like forced diversity,” remarked Libertarian. “What does you being bisexual add to the story?”

"Shut the fuck up Libertarian, he doesn’t need to justify himself to you.”

Ancap's eyes flared with a new vitality. "Every month will be pride month now!!! That's 12x the profitability!!! Hoist the rainbow flags everybody, because we're here and we're queer!!"

"They'll outgrow it soon, don't worry," whispered Post-Left into Minarchist's ear as the married men danced around excitedly.

"Let them have their fun," Minarchist whispered back.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

By the time the sun came up over the horizon the following morning, the mansion was already ruthlessly gay. There were rainbow streamers decorating the halls, rainbow flags hanging from every previously unoccupied wall space, and the exterior of the building had already been painted rainbow. Ancap & Libertarian had stayed up all night watching Rupaul's Drag Race and trying to learn the words to Britney Spears' songs. When Post-Left saw it, qui couldn't help but roll quis eyes: it was obvious that their vision of what being queer meant had been so clouded by stereotypes from the wider heteronormative society that they felt it necessary to entirely reshape their identities in order to fit the mold. 

"Hey homos, your package arrived," qui announced from outside their room. 

"Perfect, that must be our wristbands. Bring them in," responded Ancap gleefully. Qui sighed and entered the room.

"You know, you didn't need to get 2,000 of these. What are you gonna do with them?"

Libertarian grinned. "We’re planning to sell them at our pride festival."

Qui rolled quis eyes. "Don't you think it's a little early to be ordering all this junk? We still have over a month before June."

"Who said anything about June?" asked Ancap, a faint look of mischief in his eye. "We've bumped it up to next week."

"Next week?!" cried Post-Left. "How are you gonna get everything organized in just a week?!"

"Well technically 5 days," corrected Libertarian. "The sooner we have the festival, the sooner the profits will start coming in."

"It’s gonna be a total shit show," qui responded. 

"Come on Post-Left, it's so tedious waiting around for pride month. Why can't we be proud every month?" whined Libertarian.

"Precisely. I would expect you to understand this, Postie. Don't you love pride month?"

"Honestly Ancap, it’s kind of stupid."

"Stupid??" Ancap scoffed. "Postie, how could you say something so homophobic??"

"It's not homophobic to hate an entire month dedicated to corporate pandering and exploitation. Just a few days ago you literally said rainbow capitalism only exists to exploit LGBTQ+ people when it's no longer controversial."

"Well sure, that's what  _ our _ company wanted to do, but the others seem to really be making an impact. For example I heard Disney will be donating 11% of its revenue* to the Trevor Project. That's more than we were gonna do!" Libertarian defended. "Besides, even if it were true that all they care about is exploiting us, doesn't pride month still help us anyway?"

*on sales of the exclusive rainbow mickey mouse ears, which are only available for purchase on the disney.com website in the United States after entering a special code

"It only reinforces a cisheteronormative society in which queer people can only be accepted if they assimilate into a capitalist system that previously benefitted from and perpetuated our subjugation. It simultaneously encourages us to assimilate and others us. The whole point of this is to construct an identity for queer people in which they are encouraged to consume more products, media, and brands that appear outwardly supportive while secretly benefiting from bigotry. Additionally, it stirs up controversy so that queer people have to come in and defend the brand against homophobes.”

“Well, I didn’t understand most of that, but it sounds like you’re just a self-hating conservative,” replied Libertarian. “It’s okay to be gay.”

Post-Left threw up quis hands in frustration. “You think I’m a conservative now?? Look dumbass, I’m just saying surface level corporate acceptance only gets you so far.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh yes, that must be our 1500 pack of assorted pride pins. Sorry Postie, but we have a lot of planning to do, so we’ll have to talk later,” said Ancap, getting up to answer the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry heteros, but the queers aren't going to be satisfied until every character in every piece of media is gay and trans


	18. Commercial Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pride month may be over, but wrath month has only just begun

Post-Left groaned. Someone had just knocked at quis door, and qui could tell by the color of the light shining through quis window that it was an unreasonably early hour in the morning. In a broad sense, unreasonable simply meant any hour prior to noon, but in this particular case qui checked quis phone and saw that it was 5:30 AM.

“What do you want Ancap?” qui grunted.

“We’re filming a commercial today!!”

Qui rolled over. “Have fun.”

“Now now Postie, it’s too early to be having this kind of attitude. Get dressed. It doesn’t matter what you wear, you’ll be provided a costume at the studio.”

“I’m actually feeling kinda sick today, can I not?” qui responded, faking a cough for good measure.

“Sorry Postie, but we’re on a tight schedule. We’ve already pushed this back enough due to the changes you wanted to the script, and the festival is just around the corner.”

Due to the BS terms of the contract, qui couldn’t go against Ancap’s demands, so qui reluctantly pulled quemself out of bed and got dressed. When qui finally opened the door, Ancap was waiting for quem outside.

“Why do we have to go so early??” qui complained.

Ancap chuckled. “You know what they say, the grind never stops. Anyways, we had better get going.”

The jet ride was decidedly more awkward when it was only Ancap and Post-Left; there had been no good reason to bring the others along. Ancap was sitting in quis usual seat, and qui was sitting in Libertarian’s. 

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Ancap said, hoping to strike up a conversation and break the awkward silence.

“It’s barely even bright enough to see the weather.”

“Yes, well, I apologize for having to wake you up so early. I know you like to sleep in, but we need to make sure we have enough time to film the whole commercial today. If we have to come back tomorrow, it would cause significant delays and we would be hemorrhaging money.”

Qui rolled quis eyes. Qui was so tired of this dumb contract. Qui had a fundamental human right to sleep in, and if qui was woken up too early, it was quis fundamental right to complain about it.

“Do you want to play cards?” Ancap offered, getting out his trusty gilded deck.

“Yeah, whatever, I guess since there’s nothing else to do.”

“Speed?”

“You’re too good. I know you let me win that first time, but I have a feeling you won’t go easy on me again.”

“Haha, yes, I suppose you’re right,” Ancap replied, an air of uncertainty to his chuckle. “What about ERS?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s simple. We each have a stack of cards which we have to hold face-down and take it in turns to put one in the center of the table. The object is to collect the whole deck…”

He droned on about the rules of the game, and Post-Left found quemself regretting having asked what it was. Alas, it was too late to get out of this one, because Ancap had already dealt the cards.

He gestured to the table. “You first.”

Post-Left put down quis first card, which was the four of spades. Qui had no idea if that held any significance or not, but it seemingly didn’t, because Ancap put down another card. Before qui could even see what it was, he had already slapped the deck and put the two cards at the bottom of his own pile.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Doubles,” he responded, immediately putting down another card. This time qui could see what it was: the seven of hearts. It was only in view for a brief second before Ancap’s unrelenting hand came down upon it once more.

“Seven,” he said before qui could even ask the question.

The game continued like this for several turns, Ancap slapping the pile before qui even had the chance to process what had been put down. Qui barely even understood the rules of this game; qui reckoned qui probably would have had a better chance with speed.

“That’s a King, so you get three chances,” said Ancap.

“Three chances to do what?”

“Get another face card.”

Qui had only placed down two cards before Ancap slapped again. “Big Mac!”

“What does that even mean??”

“It’s like a sandwich with two cards in between.”

“Honestly Ancap you could be making these rules up as you go and I wouldn’t be able to tell,” Post-Left said. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang- Staircase!”

Qui gave up on trying to understand, instead just putting down cards when it was quis turn and waiting for Ancap to inevitably slap on some new ridiculous thing. Clearly it was a tense game for him though; he was hitting the cards as if they were the person he hated and putting them down with almost as much intensity. Eventually, one of the cards skittered across the table and fell on the floor near Post-Left’s feet.

“Do you mind getting that one, Postie?” he asked politely. 

Qui grudgingly crawled under the table to pick it up, but while qui was under there, qui noticed something unusual. It looked almost like a secret stash of some sort, just far enough under the table that you wouldn’t accidentally feel it there unless you already knew to look for it. Curious, qui reached into it and pulled out some monopoly money.

There was only one person who could be behind this heinous scheme. Libertarian.

“Is everything alright under there?”

Qui returned to quis seat. “Your husband is a cheater!!!” qui cried.

“Now Postie, I know you’re jealous, but we have an open relationship. Besides, Minarchist isn’t exactly great in bed-”

Qui rolled quis eyes. “No dumbass, I meant he cheats at Monopoly.”

“That’s absurd. Libertarian would never cheat at a board game!”

“Look!” Qui held up the $500 monopoly bill so that he could see. “I found a secret stash of monopoly money under the table!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Postie. Somebody probably just dropped it there and didn’t notice.”

Qui narrowed quis eyes. “Fine, if you don’t believe me, look for yourself!”

“I’m not going to get on my knees and crawl under that table,” Ancap scoffed. “Do you think I would marry Libertarian if he didn’t have enough integrity to play Monopoly? ”

“Well it has to have been someone, and it was literally closest to his seat, so that seems like pretty damning evidence to me. Unless  _ you’re _ the one who cheated.”

“Of course I didn’t cheat. I have too much skill for that. I’m sorry, Postie, but you’re going to have to accept that just because you’re bad at the game doesn’t mean it’s rigged.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Libertarian stared at the ceiling of his & Ancap's room. When he had woken up alone in the bed, he had felt so empty. So alone. Of course, like the maternal figure he was, Minarchist had come to comfort him in this time of hardship.

"Minarchist, do you think he still loves me?"

"I promise he still loves you. The reason he went without you was to let you sleep in."

"I know, but I miss him," Libertarian sighed. "Since we got together, we've never been this far apart."

Minarchist looked at him sympathetically, feeding him another spoon of the Kraft Mac ‘n’ Cheese he had microwaved to cheer his friend up. "I'm sure he misses you too, but he'll be back soon."

"If Hoppean were here right now, he would tell me I'm pathetic and degenerate."

"Don't say that, Libertarian. It's okay to be weak sometimes. You love Ancap, and that's a beautiful thing."

"But what if they’re playing an actually good game of cards? Without me??"

Minarchist chuckled. "I'm sure if he planned on doing that, he would have brought you along. There aren’t many good two-player games."

Libertarian rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I just… I wish he was here. This bed feels so big and empty without him.”

Minarchist gave him another spoonful of neon orange mac ‘n’ cheese. “I’m sure he wishes he could be here with you right now. Maybe you should try calling him?”

“About what?”

“Ask him out for brunch or something.”

Libertarian looked away. “I dunno Minarchist, I’m nervous… What if he says no??”

“We go out for brunch every day. He’ll say yes.”

“Oh, alright,” he said, taking his phone out of his pocket and pressing the nerve-wracking call button. “Wish me luck.”

He held his breath as the dial tone sounded, his fingers crossed.

“Hello?”

Ancap’s voice was so smooth, he felt like he could spread it on a piece of toast. 

“Hi Ancap,” he responded.

“What’s happened this time? Nothing too disastrous I hope?”

Libertarian blushed a little. “No, nothing happened… I just wanted to ask if uhhh…. You want to go for brunch?”

“Awww,” Ancap replied. “Well, we’ve almost arrived at the filming studio. Do you want to meet up after I drop quem off? It’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

Admittedly, Libertarian wasn’t exactly hungry after Minarchist’s mac n cheese, but he wasn’t about to let that get in the way of a good date. He was so nervous yet excited at the same time. “Yeah, that’s great!! I love you Ancap. I’m so lucky to be married to you.”

“No Libertarian, I’m the one who’s lucky,” smiled Ancap. “You’re the best husband money could buy, but you married me for free.”

“No, YOU’RE the best husband money could buy.”

“I hate to cut our conversation short, but the jet is just about to land. I’ll see you soon, love you.”

“Love you too!”

“Bye, Libby.”

“God, you’re terrible at flirting,” Post-Left commented after Ancap hung up.

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me for being inexperienced,” he retorted. “Anyway, let’s go.” 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Post-Left was hating every second of filming this stupid commercial. Qui had been forced to wear a dumb outfit that was waaay too flamboyant for quis liking, and the script was just awful.

"Mom… dad… I'm gay… which is why I'm going to the Ancapistan Industries™ Pride Celebration™. With exclusive merchandise, action packed events, and exciting guest appearances, I'll bring along the whole family and invite my friends too! And if I call in within the next 20 minutes, I can get two tickets for the price of one! That’s right, two tickets for-"

"CUT!" interrupted the director. "Try it again, but with more emotion. You really want to get customers excited about the celebration. And don't forget to bring up the exclusive Pride Month health insurance plans!"

Qui sighed.

"Mom… dad… I'm gay…"

"CUT! Tony, can you move your mic to be closer to him?"

"It's quem!" qui yelled.

"Bless you," replied the director. "Anyways, take it from the top."

For a 30 second ad, there sure had been a lot of takes. It was already almost noon and there were no signs of a lunch break in sight. All the while, qui was wondering what Ancap and Libertarian were doing right now. Were they sharing a romantic candlelit meal? Were they h*lding h*nds while gazing lovingly into each others’ eyes? Were they fucking each others’ brains out? Qui didn’t even want to think about it. The very idea made quem sick to quis stomach.

"And cut. That was our best take yet. That's all the footage we'll be needing from you today, thank you," announced the director, shaking quis hand. Qui headed to the dressing room to change back into quis regular clothes and call Ancap to come pick quem up.

“Hello Postie, how was it?”

“Terrible. Please never make me do this again.”

“Well, I can’t make any promises about that. You signed a contract, after all. Anyway, Libertarian and I will be there soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally arranged to play cards with a dear friend of mine, so maybe i'll be able to construct a coherent story now rather than come up with excuses to write about cards


	19. Down The Rabbit Hole

Ancap & Libertarian had decided it was absolutely necessary to have a gay movie night, so the four of them were currently in the mansion’s private movie theater. It was seldom used, like most rooms, despite being outfitted with an ultra HD screen and a super immersive speaker system. They were currently watching Love, Simon; a film which secretly made Post-Left want to die. Even worse than that was the fact that qui was sitting next to Libertarian and Ancap, who were being way too couple-y - they had been holding hands the entire time and resting their heads on each others’ shoulders and whispering things into each others’ ears. What’s more, they wouldn’t even pass the goddamn popcorn.

Qui felt much the same way qui had that one day when qui had snuck out of the mansion to go to the poor district: like qui needed to escape ASAP. Like there was a rope around quis neck tightening every minute qui stayed in this theater. Qui excused quemself to “go to the bathroom,” but in reality qui had no intention of returning to the theater anytime soon. Qui went up to quis stupid makeshift room and frustratedly picked up The Communist Manifesto in hopes of taking quis mind off things.

Unfortunately, qui didn’t see how therefore, the modern bourgeoisie was itself the product of a long course of development, of a series of revolutions in the modes of production and of exchange. Maybe quis struggles with the text stemmed from the fact that qui only ever made the attempt to read it when qui was upset. And qui  _ was _ upset. Qui knew qui  _ shouldn’t _ be, but that wouldn’t take away quis feelings. Qui should be happy that Ancap & Libertarian had finally found themselves and come out of the closet, but qui was instead annoyed by their shallow corporatism (even though qui knew qui was exactly the same way when qui first came out). Qui should be happy that Ancap & Libertarian were in a happy relationship, but qui was instead uncomfortable around them, probably because qui felt kind of betrayed. As much as qui hated to admit it, qui thought maybe... qui had a chance with Ancap. Qui knew qui should be thankful that qui had been given such a great opportunity in Ancapistan, but qui was instead restless, knowing deep down that qui couldn’t live like this forever.

Qui set aside the book once more. Qui needed to go outside again. Qui needed an adventure, just to take quis mind off things.

Qui picked up quis trusty baseball bat, the one which had bashed so many fashies before. Tonight was the night qui would venture down the mysterious hole qui had found weeks ago. Qui had told Ancap and the others about it, of course, but their private police force was simply too incompetent to find it. And they all seemed too wimpy to actually venture in there themselves, so it was all down to quem. Not that qui particularly wanted them. It would be nice to have a plucky best friend/sidekick to accompany quem, but this was no children's fantasy novel after all. 

The air was more polluted than usual. The factories must have been hard at work lately, producing who knows what useless commodities. Perhaps Ancap & Libertarian’s bulk pride merch orders had contributed to it. Qui turned on quis phone flashlight, which qui was smart enough to bring this time, and prayed qui wouldn’t be shot again tonight. Qui searched around in the bushes until qui finally stood at the edge of the hole, looking down into the darkness. With one last deep breath, qui began the descent.

Insects scuttled along the floor and walls as qui reached the bottom of the ladder. Secretly, qui had always been slightly afraid of bugs, but if any large cockroaches or venomous spiders came by quis bat would come in very handy. Qui cautiously proceeded down the narrow passage, staying alert for any signs of other people. How long could this tunnel stretch on for? It clearly had to have taken a long time to dig, which made quem wonder if it could possibly have been Hoppean’s doing. Even with the entire International Union of Nationalists on his side, this would still be quite an impressive task to accomplish in just a couple weeks.

After only a brief time, qui came to a fork in the road. Qui wasn’t sure which way to go, so qui instinctively chose the path to the left. This tunnel was wider and had some, albeit sparse, wooden support beams; it almost looked like it was a mineshaft of some sort. But who could possibly be mining under Ancapistan?

Suddenly, qui heard a sound, and qui immediately tensed up, holding quis bat in front of quem in case an attacker was approaching. After a couple seconds, qui didn’t see anyone, so qui let down quis guard. Not too far from where qui was standing was an entrance to a small cavern. Qui peered inside, only to see water dripping from a stalactite on the ceiling. Qui wondered how far underground qui was at this stage, and whether or not quis body would be found if qui died down here. There also appeared to be some rudimentary benches, almost as if this were some sort of break room. 

As the main tunnel continued, the dirt walls became stone. The faint sound of running water echoed in the distance, getting louder as qui walked. Worryingly, qui was beginning to hear the echoes of quis footsteps, gentle yet persistent. If anyone was nearby, they would almost certainly hear quem. Qui slowed quis pace, quis weapon drawn and thirsting for the skulls of anyone who wished quem harm.

Finally, qui reached another cavern, this one much larger than the previous one. A few bats fluttered away at the sound of quem approaching. Qui looked around and saw an underground river flowing through the cave, whatever lay beyond obscured by the large and somewhat impressive cave structures that stood in front of it. Alarmingly, there was a flickering light illuminating the floor and walls, almost like... a fire.

“Oh, that must be Anprim! I hope he wasn’t too violent out there…”

_ Shit _ . Qui didn’t recognize this voice at all. 

“As long as he brought food, I don’t care,” replied another unfamiliar person.

Qui froze, unsure of what to do. If qui turned around and left, they would almost certainly figure out that qui wasn’t this Anprim guy they spoke of and try to hunt quem down. But if qui stayed, who knew what they would do to quem.

“How was the hunt, vassal?” called a third voice. 

Shitshitshitshitshit. There was only one thing qui could do. Qui mustered up all of quis courage, tightened quis grip on the baseball bat, and cleared quis throat.

“You all are trespassing on private property!”

Qui heard the sound of several guns being loaded. Qui should have kept quis mouth shut. Qui should’ve-

“Anarkiddy?”

Qui turned around to see Tankie approach from behind, a shotgun crossed over his chest.

“Uhhhh hey Tankie, you’re looking great today, love the hat, also pleasedontshootme”

Much to quis surprise, he lowered the firearm. The corners of his mouth folded upward into a smile. “Anarkiddy, have you finally decided to join our movement??”

Qui scratched quis neck, unsure of what the movement was or how to avoid getting shot if qui said no. “Uh… yeah.”

He immediately dropped the gun and gave Post-Left the tightest bear hug qui had ever gotten. Qui wasn’t sure qui had ever seen him so happy before. Whatever this movement was, it was already suffocating quem more than Ancap & Libertarian. 

“I- can’t breathe"

"Sorry," apologized Tankie as he let go of quem. "I'm just so glad that we are finally comrades again!!"

"Alright Commie, who are you talking to?" asked one of the unknown voices.

"да, let me introduce you to everyone. I think you will get along well." Tankie led Post-Left around the large column of rock, and more of the cavern came into view. A group of unfamiliar people were all crouched around a small campfire on the other bank of the river, many of them with guns drawn. He hopped over the narrowest part of the stream, indicating for quem to do the same. Qui did so cautiously, still worried that one wrong move would put quem back in the hospital.

"Comrades, we have a new member," Tankie announced joyously. "Let’s go around and introduce ourselves."

One of the people, who was wearing a paper clip on their nose and a polka dot choker, stood up. “I’m Queer Anarchism. I go by they/them.”

The next person to stand up was a man dressed in a cape and a crown carrying a plastic sword. “My name is Anarcho-Monarchism, but that’s ‘your highness’ to you.”

"Hi, I'm Povertism," said a scrawny man dressed in rags. He extended his hat. "Could you spare some change, by any chance?"

"Sorry Povertism, but I'm kind of broke," replied Post-Left sympathetically.

"H-hi, I'm Anarcho-Pacifist, but you can call me Anpac if you want," said a young man wearing a white fur coat. Although judging by the guy's ideology, it was probably faux.

"So who are you?" asked Queer Anarchism.

"Uh, my name…"

Qui paused to think.

"My name's Ancom."

The others exchanged looks.

"So he's the one Commie's always talking about…" whispered Povertism.

Qui wasn't sure if Tankie's face flushed red, or if that was just its usual color. 

"Actually, my pronouns are qui/quem," Ancom corrected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I wrote this before centricide 6.5 came out lmao
> 
> guess great minds think somewhat alike


	20. The Palmer Raid

As Brokeback Mountain blasted over the speakers, Minarchist couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable. 

“Post-Left has been gone for a really long time,” he commented. “Do you guys think qui’s okay?”

Alas, Libertarian and Ancap were basically making out at this point and they didn’t seem to notice him. Not wanting to interrupt or make things any more awkward than they already were, Minarchist quietly slipped out of the theater and shed his requisite excessive pride gear. 

The immediate question plaguing his mind was which of the 12 bathrooms Post-Left had gone to. It was honestly pretty impractical just how large this mansion was. Technically he didn’t even live here, but he was involved in so many of Ancap & Libertarian’s hijinks that it was essentially an eternal sleepover, so he knew his way around pretty well. But obviously qui didn’t, because qui was nowhere to be found in the bathroom which was closest to the theater.

He moved on to the next closest, which was made out of legos for some reason. Okay, there was probably no reason behind it, much like the majority of the other rooms in this house. The layer of dust on the floor was thick enough that anyone who entered would have had to leave footprints, so qui clearly wasn’t there either. 

The next ten minutes were spent like this; Minarchist wandering around and calling Post-Left’s name to no avail. To make matters worse, he hadn’t even gotten to the next floor yet. Just as he was about to give up hope, he walked past quis room. 

The door was open, so he peered inside. Of course, qui wasn’t there, but he did see something very concerning. He rubbed his eyes, trying to make sure he was seeing correctly. On quis bed was a book, which was already suspicious enough, but not just any book - The Communist Manifesto.

Then he noticed the window was open. Remembering what had happened the last time, he proceeded with caution, poking his head out and scanning the ground for any signs of Post-Left. But his eyes were tired, and he could barely make out anything. Of course, the smog didn’t help. It had to be at least 11 by now; Minarchist simply wasn’t accustomed to staying up this late unless there was some emergency and he had already loaded up on caffeine. He yawned, collapsing onto the mattress.  _ Just a quick rest _ , he told himself before drifting off into a deep sleep.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Moon god very generous today,” declared Anprim, proudly crawling into the cave with his giant bone in one hand and two squirrel carcasses in the other.  Based on the way they had been flattened, Ancom could tell they were probably roadkill.

“You guys aren’t seriously gonna eat that, are you??” qui gagged.

Anprim paused. “Grug work hard to collect food. Who you?”

“Comrade, we are very grateful for your labour. This is Ancom, our newest member,” Tankie beamed.

“You mean…  _ the _ Ancom?” 

This comment clearly affirmed Tankie’s ideology, because he became very red again.

“Let’s eat already. I’m starving more than usual,” Povertism said, his stomach growling.

Anprim nodded and gave the squirrels to Tankie. He pulled out a pocket knife and began to skin them while the others watched hungrily. After he had finished, he skewered them on a stick and began to roast them like marshmallows over the fire.

“So Ancom, what inspired you to join our movement?” asked Anpac, who was sitting beside quem.

“Uh, well, because, um…” Qui had no idea what the movement even was, let alone what kind of bullshit could be passed off as an explanation. But based on the ideologies here, it seemed like some kind of uprising against late stage capitalism. “Well, I came to Ancapistan because Ancap offered me a job and I had nowhere else to go but the streets. But after living here for a while, I’ve kind of realized that it’s not that great. Like, people only care about you if they think they can profit off of you.”

Qui surprised quemself. Nothing qui had said was actually bullshit.

“They always talk about solidarity in the trade community and stuff,” qui continued, “but they just want to use you. They give you a nice bed and a fancy meal every night to disguise the fact that they’re just manipulating you. And they’ll lead you on and pretend like they actually care about you but then it turns out it was all fake because they’re in love with that slimy son of a bitch monopoly-cheating card-counting match-rigging motherfucker Libertarian..”

Anpac put a hand on quis shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Tears were beginning to form in quis eyes. “I don’t know.”

Tankie took the squirrels off the stick and began cutting them up into pieces, to be distributed evenly among everyone. He offered the first cuts to Ancom.

“Have some food, comrade, it will cheer you up.”

“No, I already ate,” Qui refused, wiping quis tears on quis sleeve.

“What’s wrong with squirrel??” asked Grug, offended.

“Well, it does require violence to get them…” said Anpac shyly.

“No, nothing’s wrong with it, I’m just not hungry.”

“Well, suit yourself,” said Povertism, licking his lips. “That just means more for us.”

After everyone had finished eating, they each slunk away to their own little nook and fell asleep. Except for Tankie, who stayed behind to clean up and tend to the fire, and Ancom, who had no nook to crawl to yet.

“You know Tankie, it’s obvious you’ve been talking a lot of shit about me, so you may as well just come clean.”

The authoritarian sighed. “No, it’s not that.”

“Really? Then why did everyone react when I said my name’s Ancom?”

Tankie didn’t reply at first. “They only know your name because I told them about Centricide.”

“What did you tell them?”

Quis inquiry was met only with silence.

“What the fuck did you tell them?? That I’m a worthless fucking traitor??”

“Нет, Anarkitty. I don’t think that. I’ve been thinking… maybe I was the one standing in the way of leftist unity.”

“Well, at least you could finally admit it.”

Tankie set aside his broom and sat down beside quem. “You know... we were a good team.”

“I dunno Tankie, we were always fighting about petty bullshit. The rightists never did that.”

He looked a little hurt. “Да, but that was only because those kulaks don’t believe in anything except power. We care about what’s good for the people. They could never have what we had.”

It was buried deep, but qui could feel something trying to crawl up out of quis chest. It was the same feeling qui had when qui had first met Tankie and he had prepared a whole presentation to teach quem about theory. And the time they had burned down a McDonald’s together during a riot. And the hours they had spent together in that field admiring the flowers. And in that moment, qui wondered if he felt it too.

Tankie stood up. “It has been a long day, comrade. We both should get some sleep.”

With that, he went to his own little chamber, leaving Ancom to fend for quemself. Qui suddenly realized qui didn’t know what time it was or how long qui had been down here. No doubt Ancap, Libertarian, and Minarchist were getting suspicious; plus, they had probably moved on to a better movie by now. When qui was sure everyone else was asleep, qui stealthily picked up quis bat and tiptoed back to the tunnel qui had come in from.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

When Ancom arrived back at the surface, it was still dark, much to quis relief. But as qui climbed back through the window, qui was shocked to see Minarchist sleeping on quis bed.

“Oh shit,” qui muttered under quis breath, careful not to wake him up. They had  _ definitely _ noticed quis absence. Not only that, but he had fallen asleep right next to quis copy of The Communist Manifesto. Minarchist was too nice to do anything, but if Libertarian and Ancap found out about this, who knows what they would do to quem. They hated commies almost as much as Nazi hated minorities. 

There was only one thing qui could do. Qui gently scooped up the sleeping capitalist in quis arms, trying as hard as qui could to not wake him up. Ever so slowly, qui carried him down the hallway and into his own room. But just as qui was one stride away from the bed, qui stepped on a creaky floorboard, and Minarchist woke up.

“P-post-Left?” he asked, his eyelids fluttering open. “Why are you carrying me?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” qui stammered, trying to think of a reasonable excuse. There were pretty much no reasonable excuses as to why qui would be carrying Minarchist into his room, so the only choice qui had was to tell the truth. Well, part of it. 

“You fell asleep on my bed.”

“You should have just woken me up and told me to move. I’m so sorry I trespassed on your bed, I was just so tired from looking for you.”

Qui set Minarchist down on the bed, and he sat up. “You look more green than normal… Are you sick?”

Perfect. An alibi. “Uh, yeah. I should have told you guys, but I was feeling pretty lightheaded, so I thought I should get some fresh air outside. But well... The air here isn’t very fresh.”

He yawned. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Where are Ancap & Libertarian anyway?”

“They’re probably still in the theater. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I decided to come out and look for you myself.”

Qui breathed a sigh of relief. For once, their lack of genuine concern for quis wellbeing was actually beneficial. But qui wasn’t off the hook yet. Minarchist had almost certainly seen The Communist Manifesto, but qui couldn’t exactly bring that up now.

“If you’ll excuse me Post-Left, I’m getting pretty tired. You should sleep too, it’ll help you heal faster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious that I haven't felt a real emotion in at least two months
> 
> haha jk... unless?
> 
> (nah im fine tho just struggling to write convincing internal monologues lately)


	21. The Gay-Straight Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: misgendering

The members of the underground resistance gathered around the fire, feasting on the food Ancom had brought them from Ancap’s mansion. It was the first time in months they had the privilege of eating artificial, processed foods rather than whatever bullshit they could scavenge up. 

“Anarkitty, you are truly a comrade,” said Tankie, scraping the last remains of chocolate pudding out of his cup. 

“Yeah, where did you get this?” asked Anqueer.

“Uhhh,” Ancom responded. “I shoplifted it. This morning. While everyone was still asleep.”

Anpac took a bite out of his pizza. “It didn’t involve any violence, did it?” 

“Nah, I didn’t feel like dealing with the boys in blue.”

When everyone had finished, Tankie stood up. “Comrades, we’ve got a long way to go.”

They fanned out into neat rows, and qui glanced around nervously. 

“Psst, get into formation,” whispered Anqueer. Qui nodded and moved awkwardly to stand behind them while Tankie tied back his hair and ripped off his shirt. Before qui knew what hit quem, he threw out a battery of rifles with bayonets. The music swelled in the background, and quis eyes widened with the realization of what was happening.

“Let’s get down to business, to defeat the bourgeoisie,” he sang, the others joining in. Qui shuddered at the way the lyrics had been butchered, completely throwing off the syllable count.

“Did they send me liberals, who don’t read theory?”

The others began an intricate pattern of drills, while qui stumbled along cluelessly like a little kid playing their first game of Just Dance. Of course, from the moment the song began, qui knew qui was destined to fail. 

“You’re the worst leftists I ever met, but you can bet, before we’re through.”

This world was cursed somehow. Every so often, some musical number would break out with a fully choreographed routine and a backing track that came out of nowhere. Most times, they weren’t this awful. Maybe Commie was just having an off day when he wrote this one. USSR anthem? Banger. This? Disaster.

The song continued, and eventually qui tripped on a rock, causing quem to fall over onto the ground. Anmon helped quem back up, only for quem to be met with Tankie’s stern gaze. 

The music continued as he grabbed quem by the collar. “Mister I’ll make a comrade out of you.”

“I’m not a mister!”

“Sorry, Anarkiddy, but I have to follow the lyrics,” he whispered during the short break before the next line started. Qui rolled quis eyes and resumed quis aimless flailing as the second verse of the song started up. 

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

When Libertarian woke up, the sun hadn’t yet risen over the numerous skyscrapers dotting the landscape of Ancapistan. Either that or the smog was blocking out the sun, which happened fairly often. Ancap was still asleep next to him, curled up under the covers, the warmth of his body pressed up against Libertarian’s side.

He contemplated whether or not to go to the bathroom. He knew as soon as he got out of bed, he wouldn’t be able to return to this precious, fleeting moment of tranquility. It was something he didn’t get to experience often these days, given the constant looming anxiety of a nuclear attack. But these mornings spent laying here with Ancap’s arm around him, he felt as close as he ever had to heaven. To get up now and break the quiet peace of the moment would be almost sacrilegious, but then again, he really needed to pee. 

Making his decision, he gingerly pulled the sheets off and sat up. 

“You’re up early,” muttered Ancap.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just gotta pee.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, rolling over to the other side and closing his eyes again. “Have fun.”

After Libertarian had done his business, he decided he wasn’t likely to go back to sleep, so he may as well get a snack. He opened the fridge expectantly, only to be met first with disappointment and then - horror.

The frozen organs ready for sale on the black market were still there, but his leftover pizza was gone. To make matters worse, there was only one cup of pudding left - and it was vanilla. He stormed over to the bedroom, his teeth clenched and his hands balled into fists of rage. He couldn’t fathom who would commit such a heinous NAP-violating crime.

“Ancap!!” his voice shook with fury.

“Yes, honey?” he asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Somebody stole my pizza!! And all the chocolate pudding!”

Ancap sat up, still a bit groggy from his rude awakening. “What about the vanilla?”

“There’s only one vanilla left.”

“That bastard,” he spat, suddenly jumping to his feet. “Come on Libby, let’s make him pay.”

They found Minarchist sipping a mug of coffee in the foyer, reading the morning paper. He was always annoyingly chipper in the mornings.

“Good morning, friends!” he called with a smile.

Ancap approached him slowly, a look of pure malice warping his face. 

“Uh, is everything okay?” Minarchist asked nervously.

“You know what you did,” he sneered. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t do it,” glared Libertarian. “I honestly would have never expected this kind of thing from you. I’m disappointed”

“Listen, Minarchist. You know what you did. We know what you did. So you may as well fess up,” Ancap hissed.

“What did I do??”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. You and I both know what you did. This will be a lot easier for you if you just admit to what me, you, and Libertarian all know you did.”

“Yeah. Hand over the pudding or else,” added Libertarian, breaking the suspense. Ancap shot him a glare.

“Pudding?? I don’t have any pudding.”

“Well someone had to have stolen it. It wasn’t either of us. And Post-Left never wakes up before lunchtime. So that leaves only one suspect.” 

Minarchist could feel Ancap’s breath now. He tried to move away, but he was backed up against a wall. 

“It wasn’t me, I swear! M-maybe Post-Left ate it last night!”

Ancap stepped back. “I suppose that is a possibility. But qui's no socialist. Qui wouldn't leech off our resources like that, surely.”

“...Last night, I was looking for quem, and I saw a book in quis room… The Communist Manifesto.”

Ancap and Libertarian exchanged a glance. “Are you sure?” Libertarian questioned.

“Yeah, i-it was right there on quis bed!”

Ancap looked down at the floor, a grave expression on his face. “It can’t be… Postie… A commie?”

“Are you really surprised? Once a commie, always a commie.” Libertarian shook his head. “We should never have trusted him…”

“You’re right. It was foolish for me to bring him here.”

Minarchist eyed them worriedly. “What are you guys gonna do to quem?”

“There’s no need for those fake pronouns anymore, Minarchist,” answered Ancap. “He must be destroyed.”

“A-and how will we do that?”

“ _ We _ won’t. We’re not powerful enough. But there is one person who could…”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

It was only lunchtime, and Ancom’s body was already exhausted from the day’s exercises. But alas, there ain’t no rest for the wicked. Qui felt quis phone vibrate in quis pocket, and quis eyes widened when qui saw the notification.

“Ah shit.” Qui began pacing around nervously. “No no no no no no. This can’t be happening.”

“What’s wrong, Anarkitty?” Tankie asked sympathetically.

Qui set aside the phone on a rock, quis face in quis hands. “Ben Shapiro is gonna debate me.”

“What?!” they all gasped in unison.

“What are you going to do?” questioned Anqueer.

“I don’t know,” qui sobbed. 

“Don’t do it, comrade,” said Tankie. “It’s too dangerous!”

“Ben Shapiro kill many… Feminist… Environmentalist…” Grug trailed off.

“I have no choice,” qui choked. “I signed a contract…”

The room was silent for a moment. Everybody knew the weight behind these words; there was not a libtard alive who had faced Shapiro and come back to tell the tale. That was a job reserved only for the YouTube compilations.

Tankie brushed away the tears forming in his eyes. “No. I won’t let this happen. I can’t lose you again, Anarkitty.”

“Yeah!” Anpac chimed in. 

“I guess we can’t have queer liberation so long as Ben Shapiro libtard destroyed compilations exist. We need a plan,” added Queer Anarchism.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

That night, Ancom struggled to sleep. Qui had been forced to claim a rock of quis own; qui knew that qui would never be welcome in Ancap’s mansion again. And maybe it was better that way; not for quis back, but perhaps for quis emotional state. There was something about the idea of being disowned by a gay couple that was kind of ironic, really. 

Eventually, qui had enough of tossing and turning on quis cold, uncomfortable rock and decided to take a walk. Qui had learned that by taking the rightmost tunnel at the intersection, qui could get to the poor district, where qui wouldn’t risk being seen by Ancap, Libertarian, or Minarchist. Qui still couldn’t get over how they all claimed to be big fans of free speech and yet they wanted communists to die. How Ancap had been so sugary sweet to quem and then was willing to turn on quem at the drop of a hat. How Minarchist masqueraded as such a nice person and then was willing to snitch on quem as soon as it became convenient. And Libertarian… Well, Libertarian was pretty transparently a douche. Qui wondered how long it would be until the wealth inequality in Ancapistan became such an issue that Ancap would start selling Che Guevara shirts and Hammer & Sickle pins.

“Anarkitty, where are you going?”

Of course Tankie was awake. When did he even sleep?

“I just wanted to take a walk to clear my mind and stuff.”

“Do you mind if I come with you, comrade?”

Qui thought about it for a few seconds. Qui wasn’t sure how qui felt about Tankie anymore. Qui sort of wanted to hate him, or at least feel indifferent about him. His ideology was terrifying and evil and everything he stood for was everything that qui stood against. 

And yet, qui sort of wanted to say yes. Qui didn’t  _ want _ to want to say yes. And yet here qui was. Secretly longing for the old times. And in this moment, qui wanted to say yes.

“Okay, you can come.”

Tankie smiled, embracing quem. “It’s so good to have you back.”

He led quem through the underground tunnel system, which was more complicated than qui had initially thought. When they finally emerged, they were on the very outskirts of Ancapistan. The air here smelled fresh and clean. The stars were just visible through the cloud of pollution that shrouded most of the city in darkness. There were trees, flowers, crickets, birds, and Ancom realized just how long it had been since qui had seen nature.

“It’s beautiful,” qui whispered. “Thanks for bringing me here, Tankie.”

Qui sat down on the side of a hill, and he sat down next to quem. For once, qui forgot about Ancap and Libertarian and Hoppean and Pride Month and Monopoly. At this moment, it was just quem and Tankie. Just like during the Centricide. Just like those summer nights when they would debate over ideology under the light of the moon and the stars. Just like when they would share a blanket and Tankie would read quem excerpts from Das Kapital and qui would pretend qui understood it. Just like when they would have late-night picnics consisting of stolen goods from the local Target. Maybe they didn’t have what Ancap & Libertarian had. Not officially. But Ancom had thought they were damn close to it.

“You know Anarkiddy, I’ve been thinking. About gender. And sexuality”

“And?”

“Every ideology is a man. Well, except for you, of course, comrade.”

“Don’t forget Queer Anarchism. But yeah, I get what you mean, we’re not very diverse. I mean, even Pan-Africanism is a white male.”

“It can only mean one thing. Sexuality is a bourgeois construct to divide the working class.”

“That… actually makes sense. Huh.”

“Да, I thought you might have noticed it before, but I guess not.”

Ancom turned to look at him. “So what does this make you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s okay. You have all the time in the world. But whatever you are, I support you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've pretty much finished writing this bad boy, so get ready for rapid fire for the next few days
> 
> (i think you guys are gonna like these last chapters, the past few have been kinda filler)


	22. Fall From Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: ben shapiro
> 
> (i.e. transphobia, racism)

It was a mere 2 hours before the Ben Shapiro debate, and qui was in the little break room trying to cram in as much leftist rhetoric as possible. Qui was watching 5 different youtube videos at once while simultaneously trying to read The Conquest of Bread, but it was an exercise in futility. It was like trying to fill a cup with water that had a hole in the bottom. Qui had never expected to be in this situation before. All this talk of commodity fetishism and labour theory of value and bad faith argumentative tactics made quem just wanna grill for god sakes. And by grill, qui meant go back to sleep.

“Hey Ancom,” greeted Queer Anarchism, giving quem a cup of water. “Tankie told me to bring you this.”

“Thanks for the mutual aid,” qui replied. “Hey, uh, can you help me?"

“Depends,” they responded, sitting down on a bench across from quem. “What do you need help with?”

“I don’t know what to ask Ben Shapiro,” qui confessed. “He’s already DESTROYED socialists so many times, and I haven’t even read the entire Communist Manifesto.”

“Talk about queer liberation,” they suggested.

“All he would do is spew the same transphobic bullshit and try to invalidate me.”

“Yeah, true. Maybe you could argue about authoritarianism. We're anarchists after all, that's like our main thing."

"Well, I do have a lot of practice against Tankie."

They leaned in closer. “Hey, listen, can I be honest with you? One queer anarchist to another?”

"Yeah, sure."

They glanced at the entryway nervously and lowered their voice to a whisper. "A lot of us are worried Tankie will become a dictator after our revolution."

Qui nodded. "Yeah…"

"Do you trust him?"

Qui looked at the ground. Qui was torn. Quis mind knew that he was an authoritarian at heart, ruthless, willing to do whatever it would take to maintain his power. But quis heart didn't believe it. In quis heart, qui felt safe around him; he wanted the best for quem. But Queer Anarchism wouldn't understand.

"Not fully," qui answered. 

They looked relieved. "I'm glad we're on the same page… I mean, considering..."

Qui narrowed quis eyes. “What?” 

"No, nothing."

“What did he say!?"

“He didn’t say anything. I really should let you prep for the debate,” they said, heading for the exit. “I may not know you that well, but I think you’ve got a chance at beating this guy for what it’s worth.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

It was t-10 minutes until the debate, and the private helicopter was scheduled to escort Ancom to Ben Shapiro’s event at any moment now. Qui was currently waiting at the bottom of the ladder, quis comrades gathered around quem and giving quem any last words of encouragement they had. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. Quis pulse was racing, and quis body wasn’t trembling - it was vibrating. Of all the ways qui would go down, qui had never expected it would be at the hands of the almighty Shapiro, sending forth his daggers of rhetoric from behind the podium while a hostile crowd jeered at quem from the sidelines. 

When qui heard the sound of the rotors approaching overhead, qui knew it was time. Qui waved what may well be quis last goodbye to quis new friends, quis breath suddenly heavy as qui ascended the ladder. What would Ancap say to quem? Would he speak at all? Qui took quis time walking to the chopper, trying to postpone the inevitable for just a few seconds more. But alas, Zeno’s Paradox proved false, and qui finally arrived at quis destination.

When qui stepped onboard, qui was relieved to see that none of the Triple Entente were there. Instead, a group of security guards had been sent to pick quem up. Qui tugged at the strings of quis hoodie, tightening it to make as little of quis face visible as possible. One of them gestured for quem to sit down, which qui did, and he immediately handcuffed quem to the chair.

“Hey!! Let me go!!” Qui struggled for a few seconds, but it wasn’t worth it. The handcuffs weren’t coming off anytime soon.

“Sorry, bud, but this is for security purposes. I don’t make the rules.”

Ancom sighed, looking out the window as the vehicle began to lift off the ground. The next eight minutes were the longest qui had ever experienced. Was this how criminals felt on death row, looking through the window into the room where the lethal injection was being prepared?

After a miniature eternity, they finally arrived at the venue: a college campus. But not just any college. Qui felt a shiver down quis spine when qui saw the banner: Prager University. 

Kaitlen Bennett and her crew were wandering around outside, asking students to weigh in on trans people being allowed in bathrooms. The security guards led quem past a giant bronze statue of Charlie Kirk and into a building modelled after classical Roman architecture, the words “Free Marketplace of Ideas” inscribed above the entrance. Inside was a massive crowd of people, all sitting in front of a stage upon which the man, the myth, the legend himself stood: some Benjamin Aaron Shapiro. 

Ancom scanned the crowd nervously until qui finally saw them: Ancap, Libertarian, and Minarchist, sitting in the fanciest box seats. Luckily, they hadn’t spotted quem yet, though it was only a matter of time until the spotlight would be on quem.

“Hello Anarkitty. Can you hear me?” 

This was quis secret weapon: the headset.

“Yes,” qui whispered into quis hidden mic, making sure the security guards didn’t hear. “I just arrived.”

“Okay everybody! It’s time for the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” said an announcer. “The Q&A section!!”

The crowd cheered vigorously.

“Mr. Shapiro will be taking questions from the crowd in a minute, but first, we have a very special guest tonight!!!”

Qui felt quis stomach sink in quis chest as the lights pinpointed quem in the audience.

“PragerU, please give it up for Anarcho-Communism!!!”

All eyes turned to quem, and qui gulped. Two guards stood on either side of quem and escorted quem down the aisle to an “X” taped onto the floor.

“Hah! Stupid commie! Read a book on basic economics!” jeered someone from the crowd, throwing an empty Starbucks cup at quem.

“What’s your question for Mr. Shapiro?” asked a man in a suit, holding a microphone to quem.

“Uh… uh….” qui stuttered nervously. Qui could feel the judgement radiating off of the crowd and piercing through quis soul, most especially from the box seats. 

Back at base, the revolutionaries were crouched nervously around the speaker which was broadcasting everything to them. Already, things were looking bad for Ancom.

“Psst, Ancom,” whispered Anpac. “Ask him why he thinks the government should be able to dictate morality if he’s supposedly a libertarian.”

Qui mustered up quis strength and finally formed a sentence. “You say you’re a libertarian, so why do you think the government should have the power to enforce moral judgements on people?”

The crowd burst out laughing as if qui had just delivered a stand-up routine. 

Shapiro stepped up to the mic, a smug libtard-destroying expression on his face. “I don’t see why you felt the need to bring up that I’m a libertarian at all. It’s not even relevant to this discussion. Why should my identity even matter when we’re discussing morality? Let’s say, hypothetically, I was a black woman. Would that change the morality of my actions? No, of course not, that would be ridiculous, and if you think that you’re honestly sexist, racist, and bigoted. Now, to get to your question, I don’t think we as a society should allow criminals to get away with immoral acts. If I killed some guy off the street, you would still call that murder. So why is it any different when we do it to babies? A woman’s bodily autonomy ends when it involves harming another person. So why do you think women should be allowed to kill babies?”

Ancom waited for assistance to come in over the headset, but all qui heard was Grug praying for the Sun God to intervene. “Uh… That’s not… what I was asking…”

“Look, the facts show that statistically, blacks commit more crime than other ethnic groups. It’s not racist to say that. We’ve established that there is racial differences in crime rates, so therefore it would make sense that…”

Povertism grabbed the mic. “Don’t listen to him, Ancom. He’s doing what’s called a gish gallop. I learned that from my English major.”

“...am I not correct?” Shapiro asked with a smirk.

Qui felt quis brain beginning to short circuit - the telltale warning signs of pwnage. “Actually, you racist, the reason black crime statistics are so high is because of systemic racism that is designed to discriminate unfairly against people of color!” qui retorted. The crowd erupted with laughter again.

“In what way is there systemic racism in this country? Discrimination on the basis of race has been illegal in this country since 1964. I agree with you that racism is terrible, but can you point out any specific policies that are racist?”

At this stage, quis muscles were beginning to atrophy, quis life force fading by the second. “Well, ac-”

“Socialism is the most immoral system I can imagine. I mean, I think the average person would agree that when the government becomes too powerful, it’s generally a bad thing. Let’s say, hypothetically, you’re a doctor. Like my wife. Would you want the government to take away some of your money just to give it to some person who cleans toilets? Objectively, that janitor doesn’t add as much value to society, so why should he be paid the same as you? Look, anyone who knows anything about basic biology will tell you there are only two genders. I mean, let’s say hypothetically I wanted to identify as a golden retriever. I think you’ll agree with me that it would be completely ridiculous, so why can men get away with just identifying as women?”

Ancom’s eyes flashed with rage. “REEEE!!! You don’t know anything about trans issues!! Gender is a fucking spook you fucking bigot transphobe fascist nazi-”

“You won’t win a debate like that, comrade,” advised Tankie.

“Easy for you to say, you fucking cishet,” retorted Queer Anarchism.

“The American Psychological Association says trans people are valid!!” qui added hopefully, but it was too late. The crowd was already booing and jeering at quem.

“I’m sorry, Ancom, but that’s all the time we have for today!! Thank you for coming to speak to Mr. Ben Shapiro!!” said the announcer. “Can we get another round of applause for today’s special guest?!”

The crowd began booing even louder, and qui was escorted out of the auditorium by the body guards. When qui stepped onto the helicopter, qui was met by the three men qui admired most, the father, son, and the holy ghost. And by admire, qui meant hate. And by father, son, and holy ghost, qui meant Minarchist, Libertarian, and Ancap.

“Ancom, your performance during that debate was impressive,” Ancap grinned, offering his hand. Qui shook it reluctantly.

“Yeah, it takes a lot of courage to get up there and talk to Ben Shapiro,” added Minarchist. “But you did it.”

“Congratulations,” Libertarian said, patting quem on the shoulder with one hand and pulling out a deck of cards with the other. Qui sat down cautiously - something was off here. The helicopter began to lift off the ground as Minarchist began to shuffle.

“You guys really think I did okay?” qui asked.

The three of them burst out into hideous evil laughter.

“Of course not, you goddamn pinko commie!” Libertarian spat, any hint of amusement draining from his face. “You claim to be an anarchist, yet your ideology requires a state to steal wealth and enforce its tyrannical laws on its citizens. Your existence threatens our freedom."

"W-what about my free speech?!"

Ancap chortled. "This is our town. We reserve the right to act however we please here. You're so hopelessly naive, I knew I could exploit you from the second you signed that bullshit contract. It was just a bunch of gibberish we made up, and you fell for it. There are no legal authorities here who could have forced you to follow the terms, and yet you were foolish enough to come out of hiding for this debate."

Qui looked nervously to Minarchist, who failed to make eye contact. 

"That first day, when we gave you the tour, you stopped us in the middle of our song. Perhaps it didn't seem like a big deal at the time, but if you had heard the full thing, you would have known that we don't consider commies to be people. And therefore, Ancom, we have every right to finish what Shapiro started," Ancap smiled devilishly. Suddenly, the doors on the helicopter opened, and Libertarian and Minarchist each grabbed one of quis arms.

"What are you doing?!" qui panicked. "Let go of me!!"

"I'm sorry, friend," whispered Minarchist as he led quem to the open door. The cold wind hit quis face as qui stared down at quis death. So this is how it would end. Qui would never get to see the revolution. Qui would never exact quis revenge on the capitalists. Qui would never be able to explain what happened to quis comrades. Qui would never be held safe in Tankie's arms again.

"Goodbye, Ancom," hissed Ancap. "I can't say it's been nice knowing you."

Qui felt a swift push, and then qui was falling, falling, falling through the clouds, through the sky, from this mortal plane to a world of uncertainty. The helicopter got smaller, and smaller, and qui finally felt a strange sensation of bliss. Whatever Hell had in store for quem, it had to be better than Ancapistan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minarchist be like: Yeah im bi
> 
> bi bi ancom


	23. Down In The Dump(ster)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mega homo/transphobia

_ Lost signal. _

Those two words were all Tankie could think about as he paced the streets of Ancapistan. He half just wanted to get out of the cave, and half hoped that maybe he would find quem out there if he just looked hard enough. It was all so cruel, the way fate had brought them together again only to be ripped apart by the invisible hand of the free market. Qui was his last hope. The other anarchists were useless utopian revisionaries, but quem? There was something special about quem that the others didn’t have. A signal that was lost in the inescapable and all-encompassing smog of capitalism.

There was a faint drizzle as Tankie walked, a lone wanderer in a world that didn't want him. So small, so helpless, so meaningless. The singular drop of milk in an ocean of water. The champion of a people who would have him dead in a heartbeat. Except one. 

The drizzle slowly turned to full rain. Tankie didn’t like to cry; it made him feel weak. Like a little liberal crying on election day because his preferred neoliberal bourgeois candidate lost. The only tears he liked were kulak tears, the kind shed after he and Ancom had burned down an AutoZone. But the kulaks were laughing this time. And so were Lenin and Marx, laughing from beyond the grave at his weakness. They were strong men. He was weak. He was too susceptible to passions of the heart. Nowhere in the Communist Manifesto did it provide for the mourning of the comrade, the burial of a fallen soldier, the martyr to the cause. 

Ancom was so innocent; so pure. So uncompromising in quis desire for a peaceful, utopian world. Of course, Tankie knew it was just that - utopian - but he secretly wished it  _ could _ exist. The other ideologies were all ruthless to a degree, but qui wasn’t like that. Qui was willing to break windows and loot stores and punch Nazis, but those actions were nothing compared to what the others wanted. Qui was like an innocent dove who had flown into the cruel arena of politics and been shot down out of pure spite. A harmless soul too pure for the world qui occupied, and so it had to beat quem down until qui was just a lonely forgotten body strewn somewhere across the pavement, a necessary casualty of the war on peace.

In his mind, he could still hear quem. “Tankie! Tankie!!” qui cried, “Watch out!! Ancap’s private police force is coming!!"

It was just the kind of thing qui would say after a particularly intense Antifa rally qui had dragged him along to. Another tear came to his eye as he reminisced about those days. He could still hear the sound of sirens approaching, the faint scent of gasoline in the air, the motors revving up. He imagined Ancom here beside him, holding his hand as they ran from the cops together. 

“Tankie!! Listen to me!! They’re right around the corner, they’ll find us both if you don’t fucking hide!”

But of course, they always escaped. Qui was always worried they would be caught one day, but Tankie was unafraid. Now, though, he had none of the courage he did with quem by his side. When he was with quem, he felt whole. Powerful. Fearless. The two of them could start a revolution all by themselves. They could dismantle capitalism, just the two of them with a couple molotovs and a 12 gauge. Maybe leftist unity was a pipe dream, but when Tankie was with Ancom, the class solidarity had never seemed so strong.

A pair of hands adorned in blue, pink, and white nail polish grabbed Tankie and pulled him into the dumpster he was walking beside just a second prior. 

"Tankie, what the hell has gotten into you?"

Once more, he was overcome with a burning longing for the days that were never to return. 

"This world is unfathomably cruel, destroying all that is good in the name of industrial production. We are all no more than machines, but the coal that has been fueling my engine is gone. Now I am only the wisp of the man I once was."

"Uh… what? Are you okay?? Like actually??"

"The spectre still taunts me. You capitalist spy, you know not what you have taken from me."

This comment was met with a slap to the face. "What the fuck Tankie?? I saved your ass and you still wanna call me a capitalist spy, you bootlicking dog?"

He rubbed his cheek, which was red from the slap. "A-anarkitty?"

Qui rolled quis eyes. "Who the fuck else would it be?"

"But… you're…"

"Dead? Yeah, I thought I'd died and gone to hell when I woke up in a crate of Ancap body pillows. But I think they actually saved me. As much as I fucking hate that."

Tankie's eyes un-glazed over and he wrapped Ancom up in a bear hug which rivalled the one he had given quem when qui first joined the movement. 

"Comrade, I am so happy you're alive!!"

"Yeah, me too. It would kinda suck to die just when things are getting good, you know?" qui responded.

"да, I was beginning to lose hope for the revolution. But with you… we can crush these kulaks once and for all."

They pulled away, but being in a literal dumpster, there was not much room to work with. Their faces were only inches apart, their noses almost touching. It was probably the perfect moment for a kiss, but they were both way too oblivious for that.

"Anarkitty, from now on, I'm not going to let you out of my sight. I can't afford to lose you."

Qui scowled. "That sounds like a surveillance state."

"A comrade like you is too valuable to lose. I despise capitalism, but the only good thing it has done is bring me to you," he replied softly.

Qui couldn't be angry with him now. Not when he was so cheesy. Not when he made quem feel all mushy inside. Kind of like the rotten banana peel qui was sitting on.

"I dunno Commie, that sounds like something a capitalist spy would say," qui teased.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Mom… dad… I'm gay… which is why I'm going to the Ancapistan Industries™ Pride Celebration™. With exclusive merchandise, action packed events, and exciting guest appearances, I'll bring along the whole family and invite my friends too! And if I call in within the next 20 min-”

Conservative clicked the “skip ad” button on his Steven Crowder video. Annoyingly, a second ad began playing; it was unbelievable the way YouTube had started playing two ads before videos instead of just one. 

“Diversity is what makes us strong. No matter who you are, it’s important to take pride in your identity. Since the beginning, Ancapistan has been dedicated to celebrating the LGBTQ+ community-”

“What are you watching?” asked a stern voice. Conservative jumped a little. He turned around nervously to see White Identitarian standing in the doorway.

“Just some ads before a video, I swear!” he responded.

“Ads for what?” he sneered.

“Ancapistan, they’re- they’re having a pride festival.”

Nazi’s expression became a glare. “When?!”

“I don’t know, I skipped the ads.”

He clenched his hand into a fist. “Well, we have to find out. We need to put an end to this before LGBT does to our culture what the US government does to every country that isn’t gay yet. We cannot take moral orders from people who are obviously mentally ill. The fact that they have these degenerate parades and celebrations is proof that we’ve slid as a society - it’s the equivalent of Japan making a month to celebrate the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings.”

“Gee Nazi, doesn’t that seem a little intense? I mean, I don’t like them either, but I don’t think-”

“Let me explain something to you, cuckservative. All you do is sit on the sidelines and whine like a little soyboy while you allow the Left to corrupt our society. So you have a choice: do you want to be called homophobic, or do you want to allow Western civilization to crumble at your feet?”

“Mmmm, I dunno Nazi, I think one of the great things about Western civilization is that it gave me rights,” said Homonationalist, who had just been walking by.

Nazi spun around. “Shut the fuck up. The only reason I keep you around is because you’re one of the only members on this team who’s willing to help me kill minorities. But in reality, I and everyone else here thinks you’re disgusting. You try to cope with how gross you are by convincing yourself that you’re ‘fierce’ or ‘powerful’. You’re all too willing to shit on other races, but the truth is you’re only trying to distract yourself from the fact that you’re a degenerate faggot who contributes nothing to society.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever breeder, at least I’m not a Jew. Whether you like it or not, gays are an inevitable part of society. You can end miscegenation and get rid of all other races, but no matter what, we’re going to keep being born. Although I have to say, it’s pretty impressive how you always manage to come up with such great monologues on the spot. You’re such an inspiration,” he mused.

“Are you going to help us preserve our culture or not, queer?" spat Nazi. 

"Fine, if that's what you want."

"Hey degenerates, can you move out of my way?" Hoppean hissed.

"Ah, Hoppean, you're just in time," greeted Identitarian. "Ancapistan is festering with subhuman rot, as you know, and now they've decided they're going to throw themselves a little party to celebrate the decline of their civilization. We have to annihilate them before they replace us."

"I can tell you've been discussing this for awhile because what you just said was way too concise. It's pathetic. You need to have more villain lines on hand."

"Oh, shut up about the monologues already. The point is we have to do something about this."

“Well then,” grinned Hoppean mischievously. “It’s a good thing the secret weapon is in its final stages of production.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fascist subs like r/consumeproduct are pretty cringe and unbased, but you have to admit, they've got some good evil monologue lines waiting in the comments
> 
> (most of Nazi's dialogue is based on comments I've seen there lol)


	24. Conflict of Interest

Ancom and Tankie were the only ones left in the secret hideout. Upon hearing of quis survival, the other members of the resistance decided to prepare quem a feast to celebrate quis unprecedented accomplishment of coming out of a Ben Shapiro debate still alive. Of course, Tankie had deemed it necessary to stay behind for security purposes.

“You know Anarkitty, while I was looking for you… I saw an ad.”

“No way Tankie, I don’t believe it. An ad? In Ancapistan?” qui replied.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Да, but this ad… It looked like you were in it.” 

Ancom stopped dead in quis tracks. The past few days had been so chaotic, qui had completely forgotten about the pride commercial. “We filmed that a long time ago, a-and they forced me.”

His expression softened a little bit. “Those kulaks are always trying to recuperate revolutionary movements.”

“What do you mean?” qui asked.

“Well, you always criticized me for not caring enough about minorities… So while you were gone, I read up on them.”

Quis heart fluttered a bit. Did Tankie finally give a fuck about minorities even if they didn’t help him kill the bourgeoisie? 

“Tankie, that’s great!”

He smiled. “Да, I was a class reductionist before, but now I know better. The first pride was a riot, and now it has become corporate propaganda."

"Damn, you finally understand what I've been telling you all along."

"It is time for us to infiltrate their filthy capitalist celebration and show them some communist pain."

"Will the others want to? I mean, I know Anpac won't be interested unless we keep it nonviolent, and all the screens in downtown Ancapistan might hurt Anprim's eyes."

"We don't need them. They're useless revisionaries who will get the gulag as soon as the revolution is over. But you…" he said, gazing into quis eyes. "You are stronger than them, Anarkitty."

Qui blushed slightly. "Thanks, but I don't think this is a good idea. If Ancap, Libertarian, or Minarchist spots us, we'll be dead meat."

"Nonsense! We can take the kulaks. They are pathetic and weak."

"They have an entire police force which will probably be there for the parade. They have tanks, Commie. ”

“They don’t call me Tankie for nothing, comrade,” he winked. 

“Wait, you have tanks too??” 

“Well, нет, but we can use a disguise-”

“Tankie, listen to me,” qui said sternly. “They have nuclear weapons. They’ve been strengthening their arsenal to go to war with Hoppean and the International Union of Nationalists. I know you hate them, and I hate them too, but if we start trouble at their pride parade it’s gonna end badly for us.”

“I thought you were my comrade, Anarkiddy,” he muttered.

“I am!!”

Tankie handed quem a pair of the same disguise glasses he had worn that day in the changing room. “Then prove it.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Ancap, you’re not gonna believe this,” announced Libertarian, a grave expression on his face. 

“Well, what is it?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Libertarian placed a manilla folder containing several documents down on Ancap’s desk. “Several of our competitors have donated a combined $4.5 million to anti-LGBT causes, while still planning on changing their logos to rainbows.”

Ancap leaned back again, the concern fading from his face. “Who cares about that? It’s not going to affect us, we're married and rich.”

“Not directly, but people are mad. Just look,” he said, showing Ancap his twitter feed. It was full of angry tweets complaining about performative activism and corporate hypocrisy. “If we don’t do something, it’s going to look bad for PR.”

“By gods, you’re right,” Ancap gasped. “What are we going to do?”

“There are only two options. Either we up the percentage of profits that we donate to 15%, or we make a large one-time donation.”

His eyes widened in fear. “Surely there’s another way. We can call them out on social media, or-”

“That’s not gonna work, Ancap. People want radical action from us, and that’s what we have to do if we want to maintain our brand.”

Ancap shook his head. “These homos are getting far too uppity. I can’t believe they expect us to bend over backwards for them. We’ve already designed our pride month logo, we’ve made a social media post about the importance of being an ally, we even sell rainbow merchandise. What more do they want?”

“I don’t understand it either,” replied Libertarian. “I mean, we’re gay and we’re perfectly happy with only donating 10% of our profits. If it weren’t for that little typo, it would be 1%. Shouldn’t we know what’s best for the community?”

Ancap’s eyes flashed with the same wild look he always had whenever he got a crazy idea. “That’s it!”

“What?”

“We need to have an official, public wedding to show everyone that we’re gay. Then they can’t possibly accuse us of pinkwashing!”

Libertarian’s frown turned upside down in half a second flat. “Ancap, you’re a genius!” he paused. “But when?”

“It has to be at the pride parade.”

Libertarian’s expression turned to shock. “But Ancap… The pride parade is in two days.”

“Well, Libby,” he said, a glint of madness in his eye. “Where there’s money, there’s a way.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

The feast lasted late into the night, and Ancom was thoroughly exhausted from the day’s events. Qui was dragging quis feet as qui headed over to quis little alcove. But when qui arrived, qui was pissed to see someone had taken all of quis stuff.

Now just who would want quis mismatched clothes, quis old bat, and an assortment of pride flags?? There was only one possible suspect. Only one member of the resistance who was closeted enough to borrow these things without asking first. Only one man who gave off The Vibe™ of a questioning queer with fash-bashing characteristics. Only one man seemed audacious enough to question his sexuality and/or gender (Queer Anarchism, of course, had come out the womb knowing).

Anarcho-Pacifist.

Qui didn’t want to disturb him while he was sleeping, but qui needed the clothes to bunch up and use as a pillow. Qui tiptoed through the cave to the entrance of Grug’s chamber, but it was so dark qui couldn’t really see much inside.

“Hey Anpac uhhhh look I don’t have a problem with you being queer or crossdressing and I’m not gonna out you or anything-”

Qui was momentarily blinded by a phone flashlight. Qui looked away, and when quis eyes had finished adjusting to the light, qui saw Anpac sitting up on his rock, rubbing his eyes.

“Ancom, is that you?”

“Uh, yeah, I didn’t wanna wake you up at this hour, but…”

“How did you find out??”

Qui furrowed quis brow. “I mean, no offense or anything, but you kinda seemed like the only person who would want to take my stuff.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused. “I didn’t take anything.”

“It’s okay, Anpac, I’m not mad at you, I just kinda need it back. If you wanna borrow it later you can just ask.”

“I promise I would never take anything without asking.”

“Well if you didn’t, who did?” qui frowned.

“Maybe you should ask Tankie? He’s always up late.”

“Good idea,” qui replied. “Thanks Anpac. Sorry I woke you up."

Not ten seconds after qui left Anpac’s room, qui bumped into Tankie.

“Ah, Anarkitty, I was wondering where you had gone.”

Qui rolled quis eyes. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Capitalism never rests, so neither can I.”

“Yeah, that’s great. Anyways, someone took my stuff and I was wondering if you know anything about that?” qui asked.

“Oh, да, I almost forgot to tell you. I moved all your belongings to the rock beside mine.”

“What the fuck Tankie?? Why?? That rock looks uncomfortable as shit.”

“It’s more secure that way. You never know what the kulaks might be planning.”

“Oh, give me a break,” qui sighed. “They don’t even know we’re here.”

“We can never be too safe,” he replied. 

“You and your stupid auth shit,” qui grumbled. Qui was too tired to start an argument at the moment, so qui grudgingly trudged to quis new rock.

“Goodnight, comrade!” Tankie called after quem. “Don’t let the spiders bite!”

“Spiders?” qui asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about them, I haven’t seen a black widow in at least two days now.”

Qui shuddered at the thought of bugs crawling all over quem in the night. Qui reluctantly lay down on the cold, hard rock. It was nothing like quis warm, soft rock that qui had slept on for the past two nights. Unfortunately, Tankie would probably notice if qui left, so qui resigned quemself to quis fate and began looking at quis phone.

_ >Did you find your stuff?_

Of course Anpac would text quem. He was like the better, less capitalist version of Minarchist. 

_ >tankie relocated me to a rock w spiders >:( _

_ >Why did he do that? _

_ >he says its for “security” or smth _

_ >That’s tankie for you... _

_ >Also I may as well just go ahead and tell you_

It took a little while before the next message came in.

_ >I’m pan _

_ >Also me, Grug, Anqueer, and Anmon going to make a queer commune and we were wondering if you want to join _ _🥺👉🏼👈🏼_

_ >EHFSLBJDUSDVKJD YES ALSO CONGRATS ON COMING OUT _

_ >Thanks :))) _

_ >We leave tomorrow night_

Ancom did a double take. 

_ >Don’t tell anybody about this especially tankie_

“Holy shit,” qui muttered under quis breath. Qui couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen. 

“What is wrong, comrade?” Tankie asked.

“Uhhh nothing,” qui replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wild how jreg stole my idea before I even posted this chapter


	25. Calm Before The Storm

"Anarkitty, it is time," whispered Tankie, shaking quem from quis sleep.

"Gimme ten more minutes," qui groaned.

"You said that ten minutes ago. These kulaks aren't going to destroy themselves."

"They might. This whole event was a last-minute thing, it'll probably be a disaster."

"We have to always be prepared for the revolution," he responded. "Now get up, today is going to be a busy day."

Qui yawned and reluctantly sat up, rubbing the sleep from quis eyes and grabbing quis trusty bat. "You know Tankie, I was kinda hoping we could get this over with before lunch."

He chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. Revolution takes longer than that. Come, it is time for the bourgeoisie of the world to convulse in horror with the desecration of brick and mortar."

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Tankie and Ancom arrived in the town square. Already there was a crew decorating with streamers and flags, and some booths were being set up to sell a wide array of pride-related junk. Ancap clearly hadn't been kidding when he said the fake pride trap they had gone to was market research - Ancom spotted a face-painting booth with a variety of different pride hearts available, in this case variety meaning 5. But hey, it was an improvement from Moderate Lee's at least. Smack dab in the middle of the square was a stage with advertisements for the background. From the looks of things, the main events at this festival would be consumption and regret.

Of course, the leftists were spying all this through a set of binoculars. They were camped out in a tree nearby, the frail branch bending under their combined weight. It was only a matter of time until it would give way, sending them both clattering to the ground - Ancom noticed this and attempted to move to a different branch, but Tankie stopped quem, insisting that if they fall, they fall together.

"So when's this thing gonna start?" qui asked impatiently.

"In three hours," Tankie replied calmly.

"You're kidding!"

" Да, I know, I should have woken you up sooner."

"The fuck are we gonna do for three hours?? Just sit here??"

"Of course not," Tankie grinned, pulling out his copy of The State and Revolution. "We're going to read theory."

"To be honest Tankie, I would rather have just slept in."

He looked hurt. "But Anarkitty, Lenin is one of the greatest communist leaders of all time. Maybe if you read his works, you would understand why it is necessary to have a state."

Qui sighed and rolled quis eyes. "Whatever, I guess there's nothing better to do…"

Tankie's eyes lit up. "Don't worry comrade, this will be worth it." He opened the book and scooted closer to Ancom, putting an arm around quem. It was times like these that made him glad he was a leftist. Glad he'd started this whole movement, even though it had been a pain in the ass to set up. Glad he'd met Ancom. Because it was in these moments that Tankie truly felt like not just an ideology, but a person. A person who was very much in love with Ancom.

"Uh, Tankie?"

"What?"

"Do you hear that-"

At that very moment, the branch snapped, sending them both falling to the concrete pavement below.

"See, I told you that was gonna happen," said Ancom, rubbing quis head.

"Are you hurt??" he asked, getting up and offering a hand to quem.

"I mean yeah, obviously. But not that bad," qui replied, taking his hand and pulling quemself to quis feet. "Are you?"

He shook his head. "We have to find a new hiding spot."

"You know Tankie, I don't understand why we have to hide in the bushes just to watch people setting up for a pride parade. Do you even have a plan for what we're gonna do once it starts?"

He scratched at his neck nervously. "Well, we can throw some molotovs?"

“Oooh!” Quis eyes sparkled with possibility. "We have to get revenge on Libertarian and Ancap!!"

Tankie nodded. "Of course. But there is no praxis without theory, so we should read the rest of the book, Дa?"

Qui sighed, pretending to be annoyed. In truth, qui didn't really mind too much. Reading theory on quis own, well, that was a whole different can of worms. But when Tankie read it to quem, he made it interesting somehow. The way he read Lenin to quem was like the way a dad might read a bedtime story to a kid; a little overdramatic, with a few extra comments here and there and some explanations of the big words like “bourgeoisie” and “proletariat” qui didn't know yet. But all in all, qui didn't hate it. One could even go so far as to say qui enjoyed it.

But there was an unsettling impermanence to this moment. Qui knew it couldn’t last forever, as much as qui wanted it to. Qui wished qui could slow down time, stop Earth from spinning for a while just so qui could spend as much time as qui needed here. But qui couldn’t, so qui had to savor what little time qui had. But maybe… Maybe it  _ could _ stay this way. 

“What are you two doing here?” asked a police officer, walking up behind them. Commie quickly hid the book, and Ancom tried to act natural.

“Uhhhhhh, we’re just waiting for the festival to start!” qui blurted.

“Let me see your tickets,” he commanded.

The leftists exchanged nervous glances. “Uhhhh I think I left mine in the car,” sputtered Ancom.

“Дa- I mean, yes, me too.”

The cop glared at them menacingly, keeping one hand on the piston in his belt. “I advise you to leave the premises immediately. No loitering is allowed unless you paid for a ticket.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. As they scrambled out of the bushes they had been hiding in, they saw the true extent of Ancap’s private police force. The entire fenced off area was surrounded by an army of police, their arms linked to form an impenetrable barrier of destruction. The ones at the front row were equipped with full on riot gear, rocket launchers strapped across their backs.

“Дерьмо,” swore Tankie.

“I told you there would be a lot of cops,” Ancom whispered. “Although this seems pretty excessive.”

Almost as if to prove quis point, the tanks rolled up, covered in rainbow decorations and deadly guns. Tankie grabbed quis arm and pulled quem into another set of bushes.

“Anarkitty, give me the binoculars.”

Qui handed them over, and he zoomed in on the private helicopter which had just landed. It was painted in the colors Ancom knew all too well.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

The first thing Libertarian did when he stepped out of the chopper was trip over his long, extravagant wedding dress. He had opted to wear a dress for two reasons: it would make him seem more gay, and also it would be boring for them both to wear suits. The second thing he did after he stepped out of the helicopter was look around at the town square. It made his heart swell with pride at the sheer amount of power and wealth he and Ancap had accumulated. 

It would be another thirty minutes before guests would arrive, and Ancap was still getting ready. As Libertarian walked around, he was more nervous than he thought he would be. He still couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in his heart at the thought of finally having a real wedding. When Ancap had first proposed to him, he secretly hoped for something like this, but of course it would have been awkward to ask at the time. 

Following tradition, they weren’t supposed to see each other until the ceremony began, so Minarchist took him to a holding room nearby. He was both Ancap’s and Libertarian’s best man. 

“Libertarian, you look great!” he smiled.

“Thanks,” he replied. “Do you think Ancap will like my dress?”

“Of course he will!” Minarchist reassured, holding open the door for him. “After you.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Was that Libertarian in the hideous dress??” qui whispered. 

Tankie chuckled, lowering the binoculars. “Дa, I wonder what those kulaks are up to this time.”

“It looked like some kind of a wedding dress. Also why did they just walk into a butcher shop?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ACAB
> 
> Also next chapter is gonna be pretty long & intense so get ready


	26. The Sanctity of Marriage Gets BTFO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we get an f in chat
> 
> TW: homophobia
> 
> Also if you've never played speed this chapter might confuse you but I tried to make it understandable, here are the rules if you dont know whats going on https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speed_(card_game)  
> cardlocked = you can't place any cards down

Crowds of guests gathered in front of the ad-riddled stage where Ancap was currently standing. Libertarian would be walking down the aisle at any moment now, and he held his breath as he waited excitedly for his husband. He had decided to wear a dress, but he was nervous about how people would react: most had never even seen him wear anything other than a suit. Finally, it was time. “Ancapistan” began playing over the speakers, and he took in a deep breath. Time itself seemed to stand still, the seconds dragging on as he waited for the love of his life to finally make his debut.

“Now’s the time,” whispered Ancom. Tankie nodded, and they both threw their molotovs at once. Unfortunately, their aim wasn’t very good, and neither the stage nor the audience were hit. A rainbow flag that was a couple feet away started to burn, and Tankie’s molotov hit a tree which also caught on fire.

“Fire!!!” screamed someone in the audience. Alas, their cry was drowned out by the swell of music. The blaze continued in the background as Libertarian finally stepped out, and the crowd directed its gaze to the groom. Ancap was at a loss for words; his husband looked so stunning that it took the breath right out of his lungs. He looked so different with his dress and all of the makeup he was wearing. Ancap felt his heart beating faster as the man he loved approached, struggling not to trip. It was clear that his shoes were the wrong size, but that didn’t matter. The only thing Ancap wanted was to just kiss him already. 

Meanwhile, the flames grew ever brighter. The only thing Ancom wanted was to just burn him already. The fire had spread to a few additional streamers, and it was creeping down the branches of the tree. It was a surprise no one had seemed to do anything, although that may well have been because the private police force was guarding the wedding area pretty heavily. 

“Do you think we should throw another?” questioned Ancom, fidgeting in quis seat. 

“Нет, we shouldn’t push our luck.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Libertarian finally stepped up onto the stage. Ancap was trying his hardest to hold back the waterworks, but when his husband took his hand, he lost it. He wondered how Libertarian managed to maintain his composure.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered. 

“Thank you everyone for coming to Ancap and Libertarian’s official gay wedding,” announced Minarchist, who in addition to being both grooms’ best man was also the officiant. “Marriage is a beautiful thing, and it’s so great that all of you have come to bear witness to this holy union of man and man.”

The flames were tiptoeing ever closer to the stage where the two kulaks stood, much to the delight of the leftists crouched in the bushes. Another tree had caught on fire now, one which was closer to the stage. Tears were welling up in Tankie’s eyes; the destruction of private property was always such a beautiful thing.

“Libertarian, do you take Ancap to be your wedded husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or richer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till bankruptcy do you part, according to the Free Market's holy ordinance?”

“I do.” His voice sounded a little different somehow. Maybe it was because he was nervous.

“And Ancap, do you take Libertarian to be your wedded husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or richer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till bankruptcy do you part, according to the Free Market's holy ordinance?”

“I do!” sniffled Ancap, wiping away the tears from his eyes. They both took off their rings momentarily and handed them to each other to slip on each other’s fingers.

“You may now kiss the groom,” said Minarchist, and Ancap didn’t waste another second. He embraced Libertarian with such force that it almost knocked both of them to the ground and kissed him like his life depended on it. But somehow, this kiss was unusual. His husband’s lips felt different than normal, the taste in his mouth just wasn’t quite the same. When he finally pulled away, he was horrified to see the fake moustache stuck to his own face, revealing that the man in front of him was none other than Hoppean. Worse than that, there was a gun pointed at his neck. And not just any gun. It was a long range, high power super soaker. The audience gasped.

“Hoppean?!”

“That’s right degenerate. Did you think you could get away from the International Union of Nationalists so easily?!”

Ancap’s expression turned to pure, unadulterated rage. It was as if he had channeled the spirits of hatred and they were now inhabiting his eyes. “WHERE THE FUCK IS LIBERTARIAN?!”

Hoppean smiled mischievously.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

The old trickster let out an evil laugh as he pointed to the butcher shop.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢FLASHBACK◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“So why did you bring me here?” Libertarian asked, inspecting the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling and the blood which stained the walls and floor of the freezer. 

Minarchist smiled a sinister smile, pulling out a large knife from his pocket. “Oh, no reason.”

Libertarian’s eyes widened. “What are you doing with that??”

“Take off the dress.”

“What??”

“You heard me. Take it off.”

Libertarian made a lunge for the door, but of course, he tripped on his dress again. He cursed himself for choosing this instead of a regular suit.

"Did you think you could escape that easily?” he smirked, holding the blade against the other man’s throat. “I’ll say this one more time. Take. Off. The. Dress.”

“I… I can’t reach… the zipper.”

“Well you should have said so earlier!” He removed the knife from the other man's throat, turning him around to unzip him. 

“Why are you doing this??” he asked, the tears already forming in his eye as he slipped out of the gown.

“Hand it over!” he spat.

With shaking hands, Libertarian obeyed his order. Minarchist took the dress and raised the knife once more, an evil look in his eye. Libertarian glanced around the room, looking for any opportunity to escape, but alas he was trapped.

“Any last words?”

“Uhhh… n… no…” he squeaked, closing his eyes and bracing himself for his death.

“Good,” Minarchist replied, throwing the knife at his feet. “The best man speech was getting pretty long already. Now, we didn’t order enough meat, so you had better get to cutting.”

Without another word, “Minarchist” left the freezer, locking the door behind him and pulling off his mask. God, that thing was hard to see in.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢FLASHBACK END◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“THAT’S IT, I’M GOING TO FUCKING WRING YOUR NECK YOU-”

At that very moment, several of the tanks broke rank, and the Nazi flags unfurled. Hoppean chuckled.

“You know, back in the day, we used to forcibly remove degenerates into the ocean. But there’s too many of them here, so we had to bring the ocean to the degenerates,” he sneered. 

One of the tanks sent a blast of water at the stage. Ancom and Tankie frowned - this deluge put out the fire they had started with their molotovs.

“It is time,” muttered Tankie, for they too had a secret weapon: a hairspray powered flamethrower. 

“No! Don’t go out there!” cried Ancom, but it was too late: he was already halfway across the battlefield.

“Well well well, what a pleasant surprise,” said White Identitarian, standing up from his seat in the audience. “I never expected to see you here, Commie.” 

Before the leftist had a chance to react, he pulled out a giant water gun which made even Hoppean’s look like a kid’s toy by comparison. 

“I am not afraid of you, fascist,” Tankie growled, spraying a cone of fire in Nazi’s direction.

“Well you should be,” he grinned, pulling the trigger on his water gun.

The two elements met in midair: fire and water, the far-left vs the far-right, cancelling each other out. But Tankie was outnumbered. Hoppean trained his sights on the leftist, and the tanks drew ever closer.

“Get them!!!” commanded Ancap, and the police swarmed around the two extremists. 

“Stop trespassing at once or you will be McNuked™,” warned one of the cops.

“You won’t McNuke™ us,” snickered Identitarian. “You don’t have the balls. Admit it. You’re afraid because you’re weak. All of the great civilizations of old began to decline once they embraced degeneracy, and you’re no different. The entire point of your little alphabet circus is to spread-”

“Enough!!!”

Everyone looked to see Libertarian, who had just emerged from the butcher shop naked and covered in blood & chicken feathers. 

“There’s only one way to settle this… A speed tournament. Winner takes all.”

A deadly silence fell over the plaza. Ancap silently pulled out his trusty pack of cards and handed them to Minarchist, who began to shuffle. The fascists slowly and breathlessly climbed out of their tanks, lowering their weapons. Tankie took his finger off of the spray can. The police backed away.

“How do you play speed?” Moderate Lee asked naively.

“Stand aside, centrist,” snarled Identitarian. “It’s time for the Blitzkrieg.”

He and Tankie sat across from each other on the pavement like children on a playground. They never once broke eye contact as Minarchist dealt.

“When I’m through with you, your blood will paint the streets redder than the color of my flag,” hissed Tankie.

Identitarian chuckled. “Is that so?”

Minarchist laid down the last card and backed away from the colosseum of carnage. The two authoritarians each put a hand on the cards in the center.

“Three…. Two…”

Nazi’s fingers twitched, and Tankie took in a deep breath.

“One… GO!”

Tankie was barely a millisecond faster on the draw, but Nazi was able to put down three cards right out of the gate. The spectators watched intently as the battle unfolded. 

“I’ve seen snails faster than you two!!” jeered Libertarian. 

This insult only stoked the fire, the cards flying down at seemingly double the pace. But inevitably, the momentum was interrupted by a double-cardlock. Tankie looked to his own pile, and then to Nazi’s. He was in the lead.

“Ready?” Commie grunted.

“I was born ready.”

They flipped over the two side cards, and the three of clubs in the center gave Nazi the opportunity to slam down all 5 cards in his hand at once. Tankie began to sweat; that kind of play would almost certainly give his opponent the edge. Meanwhile, he was still cardlocked; the only card he could have put down was a four. 

“Cardlocked again, Commie?” Identitarian smirked. 

“Дa,” he muttered. “But it isn’t over yet.”

The race realist relished his advantage, purposely taking as long as possible to pick up new cards and put them down while all Tankie could do was watch. But then opportunity struck when he put down the fateful eight of spades. The communist slammed down four of the cards in his hand, leaving him with only one remaining: an ace.

He looked up. Nazi still had a full 5 cards in his hand. It was so quiet, you could hear the stock market drop. He waited for his chance as Identitarian combed through his cards, uncertainty in his movements as he organized his set.

It was all down to this. The leftist and the rightist each flipped another card from the reserve pile, and before Commie had the chance to see what the cards were, Nazi triumphantly smacked down his remaining cards.

“Speed!” he announced with a smug grin.

Tankie felt his heart sink down below his stomach. How could he have lost? How could he let down his movement? What would Ancom say when qui found out?

There was little time for him to grieve. He was quickly shoved aside by Ancap, who sat down in his place. Libertarian massaged his shoulders as he gathered the cards and handed them back to Minarchist. As the deck was being shuffled and dealt, Ancap cracked his knuckles.

“So much for rightist unity, eh?” he said.

“Shut up, faggot. Mark my words, you and your fucking degenerate coomer husband will regret ever being born. If I had a button that I could press and every fucking fag would fall over dead, I would push it until I break my finger. There was never any right unity, Ancap. There never could be. Because ultimately-”

“Okay, the cards are dealt,” Minarchist interrupted.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Nazi apologized, picking up his stack of 5.

“Three… two… one… go!!!”

There was no doubt that Nazi was a skilled player, but when compared to Ancap, he looked like it was his first game of speed. There was simply no competition. The match with Tankie had been close, but Ancap depleted his pile faster than he depleted natural resources, because at the end of the day, he had one thing Nazi never could have competed with: a smaller deck.

“No… I refuse to accept it!” cried Identitarian, digging through both middle piles to find evidence that Ancap had cheated. Alas, there was none to be found; Ancap was far too experienced at cheating to leave behind a trail.

“I suppose that settles it,” smiled Ancap. “We won.”

“Not so fast!” called a voice whose mere sound was enough to fill Ancap with disgust. 

“Anarkitty!” Tankie exclaimed.

“Ancom,” sneered Ancap.

“That’s right. You better start fucking shuffling.”

“But… That’s impossible!” huffed Libertarian. “We killed you!”

“Well, I thought I’d return the favor,” qui retorted.

Minarchist gulped, picking up the cards and shuffling them once more. Everything was riding on this match. Secretly, qui didn’t think qui would win, but qui figured if qui acted confident Ancap would be intimidated. And it seemed to work, because the capitalist’s breathing seemed a little heavier than before.

“What makes you think you can beat me?”

Qui wiped the molotov alcohol off quis hands. “Just a hunch.”

They both picked up their cards. Right away, qui noticed that qui had a joker. The gods had been kind today.

“Three… Two… One… GO!”

Once it had started, there was no going back. Qui couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Right off the bat, Ancap was able to put down all five of his original cards, and qui gulped. This would be no easy task. Qui desperately sorted through quis hand, putting down anything and everything to combat the flood of cards Ancap was placing. 

“You’re going too damn easy on him!!!!” screamed Libertarian, his face already red.

When qui heard this, qui felt a moment of relief. That must mean qui was ahead, or at least that it was close. Qui hadn’t even noticed that qui had been holding quis breath the whole time. But of course, as it always happens, qui soon got cardlocked. Meanwhile Ancap showed no signs of slowing down.

“Don’t give up now, Anarkitty!” Tankie shouted.

Qui knew what qui needed to do. Qui placed down the joker, which allowed quem to slam down the other 4 cards in quis hand. Much to quis delight, this both cardlocked Ancap and allowed quem to pick up the second joker in the deck.

“Finished?” Ancap grumbled.

“Yeah,” qui responded, and the next two cards from the reserve were turned over not half a millisecond after the word left quis mouth. 

_Shit_. Qui couldn’t put down any cards on either pile. Qui waited with bated breath for Ancap to make his move, but much to quis surprise, he didn’t. Instead, his hand inched over to the side stack

The communication between them was unspoken. The cards flipped, and this time qui could put something down. Qui tuned out the crowd around quem, oohing and aahing at every little move they made. Qui focused only on putting one card in front of the other. It was almost like the game was in sync with quis heartbeat. As the intensity increased, so too did the rate at which qui threw down cards. And all the while, the secret weapon was waiting in the wings.

When qui finally became cardlocked once more, qui looked to quis opponent. Qui had been so focused on quis own plays that qui hadn’t noticed that Ancap had only one card left. 

“Well Ancom, do you want to just call it here?” he joked.

“Don’t listen to the kulak, Anarkitty. You can still win.”

The tension increased to maximum levels as the next two cards were flipped. Another double-cardlock. But now, both reserve piles had been fully exhausted.

“What happens now?” qui asked.

“We flip both stacks over and pull one out from the middle.”

The gaze of the crowd burned through Ancom like a laser beam as qui picked quis card. This would be the make-or-break moment. Qui flipped it over, closing quis eyes and bracing quemself for that dreaded word.

It never came. Qui looked at the cards in the center and realized qui could put down four in quis hand. Qui pulled the last two from quis deck, and in quis hand, qui held the fateful three: a queen, a jack, and a joker.

Ancap’s hand shot out fast as lightning, but Ancom was faster. Whether it was skill, luck, or pure determination, quis cards made it to the table a fraction of a second before Ancap’s.

“SPEED!!” qui screamed out, the high of the victory hitting quem stronger than any drug.

Libertarian was already in the beginning stages of a temper tantrum. “That’s impossible!!! He cheated!!! Check the decks!!!”

“Go ahead,” qui responded coolly. “I played fair and square. Unlike you.”

“Дa, let’s go, Anarkitty.”

“Oh, Libertarian, one last thing.”

“WHAT?!”

“It’s qui/quem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it bad that im more invested in my own fanfic than the real centricide? i actually drew some fanart of this chapter, who knows maybe ill post it (it's not anything that special but for some reason this whole wedding thing excited me to the point where i wanted to do a sketch of it lmfao)


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: slurs
> 
> note that no character that appears in this chapter is intended to mock anyone

Hoppean scrubbed the inside of his mouth for the fifth time. It was no use. He could eat soap until the day he died, but he would never be able to expunge the fact that he had kissed Ancap from his soul. Plus, soap didn’t exactly taste that good.

“Hey Hoppean~” purred Homonationalist from outside the bathroom door. 

“Oh, fuck off,” spat Hoppean. “I’m not gay!”

“If only you knew what you were missing out on…”

Homofash had been flirting with him ever since that fateful wedding (which they had left an hour ago). Hoppean wasn’t quite sure how to cope - the International Union of Nationalists had lost their base, so they were now… he struggled to even say it, but… they were homeless. And then having this goddamn fag here flirting with him every second just made it worse.

“Leave me the fuck alone, you fucking degenerate faggot queer cocksucker...”

“No fair,” Homonationalist pouted. “There are barely any slurs for cishets compared to the amount of slurs you get to use on me.”

“...tranny cuntboy sodomite reprobate!”

“Whatever you breeder... cissie... straightie… I was just gonna invite you to our orgy tonight.”

Hoppean did a double take. “What the fuck did you just say??”

“Oh, did no one tell you?” Homonationalism chuckled. “Every month we fuck each other to purge ourselves of any degenerate thoughts.”

Hoppean felt his blood run cold. No. It couldn’t be. How the fuck had he sworn allegiance to a gay sex cult?!?!

“What’s wrong?”

“Get the fuck away from me, faggot!”

“Oh, no need to worry. Everyone says ‘no homo’ afterwards. Well, except me, of course,” he winked. “It’s no more gay than kissing Ancap.”

The man raised a good point. Now that Hoppean’s innocent virgin lips had been tainted with faggotry, he was irrevocably degenerate. He could tell himself that it was different, that it was necessary, that it didn’t make him gay, but at the end of the day he would always carry that burden on his soul. So he may as well indulge his deepest desires now that he had the chance.

“Fine. I’ll join,” he grunted. “But after that, we have to get back to work. Pride Month is just around the corner, and the degeneracy has only just begun.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

“Gay wristbands! Get your gay wristbands, right here! $5 each!!”

Libertarian and Ancap stood awkwardly behind the two cardboard boxes they had spraypainted with the words “PRIDE MERCH”. They had lost everything, all because of that spur of the moment phrase: winner takes all. At the time, it had seemed obvious that they would be the ones taking all. But here they were, stationed on the side of a road in the poor district (the only place where people ever used the roads), with nothing but their leftover pride wristbands and buttons. They had been here for about three hours and made precisely 0 sales.

“Oh, what are we going to do?” sobbed Ancap. 

Libertarian tried to comfort him, but he was himself at the end of his rope. “Do you think maybe we aren’t getting any customers because our prices are too high?”

“But if we lower the price too much, we won’t be able to buy back our mansion,” sniffed Ancap. 

Libertarian took his husband’s hand. “We don’t need the mansion. It was mostly full of useless rooms anyway. We should just focus on getting ourselves off the street first.”

Ancap wiped his tears on his sleeve. “When I started Ancapistan, I just… I never thought  _ we _ would be the cripplingly poor.” He burst out into tears again. 

“Well, that’s the good thing about capitalism. Anyone can be successful with enough hard work and determination.”

“Yeah,” he said dejectedly, knowing deep down that it wasn’t true. The way he spoke now was so… sad. Like a beaten dog who had given up on fighting back. The air of smugness behind his voice was gone, replaced with a hollow sort of emptiness. “I suppose we had better change our prices then.”

Libertarian nodded, picking up the spray can. “What should the new ones be?”

“Make the bracelets $4.50. The pins can go down to $6.”

Libertarian shook his head. “No… They have to be lower. This is the poor district, after all.”

“Fine… Bracelets $1.50, pins $3.50,” Ancap replied through gritted teeth.

Libertarian gave him a sad smile. Just days before, his husband had been an unstoppable business tycoon, a true force to be reckoned with; now here he was, the husk of the man he had once been, forced to stoop to the low of selling merchandise at a reasonable price.

Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, a girl approached the stand. She looked to be no older than fifteen, her hair dyed blue and a fake nose ring adorning her left nostril.

“Hey, are you guys still selling pins?”

Ancap & Libertarian both lit up at the question.

“Yes, yes, of course! They’re $3.50 each, and we have a wide variety,” beamed Ancap as Libertarian dug out the box.

“Cool, do you guys have a demiflux asexual panromantic one?”

The two capitalist ideologies gave her a blank stare.

“I’m gonna guess not. Well, that’s okay, it’s a pretty niche flag anyway. What about a demigirl button?”

They eyed each other nervously.

“Uh, okay, what about a nonbinary flag?”

Libertarian burst into tears, and it was now Ancap’s turn to comfort him.

“I don’t know what any of those mean!!” he cried. “We’re just a couple of old gays trying to stay off the streets…”

“There there, Libby,” Ancap comforted. “You’re making us look bad in front of our customer…”

“It’s okay. Capitalism fucks queer people every day.” The teen gave them a sympathetic look. “Also, the nonbinary flag is this one,” she said, holding up a pin with yellow, white, purple, and black stripes. “Anyway… Here,” she said, setting the money down on the cardboard box and leaving before things could get any more awkward.

As soon as their patron had left, they ducked under the table. 

“I… I can’t believe it!! Our first sale!! We’re not going to be poor anymore!!!” Libertarian squealed, unable to sit still with all of the adrenaline rushing through his body.

“Thank the free market for rainbow capitalism,” grinned Ancap, all of the usual color returning to his voice. In the span of a day, he had experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, had the rug pulled out from under his feet and put back again. He didn’t know what the future would hold, but as long as his husband was by his side, he could handle it. Happy tears welled up in his eyes as he leaned in for a kiss, and Libertarian returned his advance with enthusiasm.

“You know, when we make enough money, maybe we should start selling Che Guevara shirts too,” Libertarian suggested.

“Of course,” Ancap replied. “Commies really are an untapped market here.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Ancom and Tankie sat down on a bench, contemplating the day’s events.

“I can’t believe we truly defeated the kulaks,” Tankie said.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either. But this is temporary, you know.”

There were two meanings behind that phrase, though Tankie didn’t know it. Qui was uncomfortably aware that time stopped for no man. Or ideology. The seconds were ticking down until qui would have to make quis final decision to leave or stay, and Tankie couldn’t know. It was cruel, the way the very knowledge of the choice was sapping away at quis ability to live in the moment with the man qui might have to leave behind. 

“Is everything okay, comrade?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They didn’t speak for a while. There was something in Tankie’s eyes, qui saw it. Maybe qui was just projecting onto him, but he seemed uneasy too.

“So what comes next?"

It was a frank question. Thanks to Libertarian's "winner takes all" clause, Ancapistan now belonged to them. All the pothole-covered streets, all the smoke filling the sky, all the towers wrapped up in advertisements, were theirs.

"We should make use of the private police force to crush any last vestiges of capitalism once and for all," suggested Tankie, a fire burning in his eyes. "It is time for communism to rise again!"

Qui didn't really vibe with it, to be honest. The idea of an authoritarian dictatorship disgusted quem. Even if it would lead to global communism.

"You know Tankie, maybe if they're so obsessed with capitalism, they should have it."

"What are you saying, Anarkitty?!" he gasped. 

"I mean, if we force them to become communists, isn't that basically the same as them forcing us to live under capitalism?"

"But capitalism is an inherently exploitative system! There is no ethical capitalism!"

"Yeah, but let's face it. Ancap and Libertarian are never gonna want to live in a communist society. So why not just let them have their Ancapistan or whatever."

"If capitalism exists anywhere, it will try to expand and imperialize. We cannot let that happen."

"Okay true, but I just don't think the gulag is a good idea. I mean it's just bad optics Tankie, and also it's auth as fuck."

"One day you will understand," he said, a faraway look in his eye. He didn't know if he believed it, but he wanted to, because he knew full well what would happen if qui continued to resist.

There was another period of silence between them. Tankie inched closer to quem, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want to know what I told everyone about you?" 

Qui needed to really think about that question. Qui already had a good idea of what he was gonna say; it was just a matter of whether qui was prepared to deal with that. Because once it was said, it could never be unsaid. Left unspoken, such a thing could drift in the grey area of plausible deniability, of comfortable uncertainty. But spoken, it could be a terrible thing. Spoken, qui couldn't stay in that space anymore, and qui wasn't sure if qui was ready yet.

But of course, it wasn't a real question. He didn't need a response, because in his mind, qui had already consented. When Tankie wanted something, he got it.

"The reason they all reacted when you said your name is because… I love you."

Qui really, really didn't want to hear those words selfishly thrust on quem, because now they were quis burden to deal with. Qui remembered the time they had burned down a McDonald’s together during a riot. And when qui had first met Tankie and he had prepared a whole presentation to teach quem about theory. And the hours they had spent together in that field admiring the flowers. Qui knew Tankie remembered those moments too, but not in the way qui did.

Before they had gone to burn down the McDonald's, qui had spent hours begging him to let quem go, and even then only with his explicit supervision as if qui were some little kid. During that lecture on theory, Tankie had made it explicit that anarchists were traitors to the revolution and would be in the gulags along with everyone else. And those times out in the field, just after Tankie had told quem to look at the flowers, that's when qui would pretend qui didn't hear the click of a gun behind quem.

Once qui had connected those dots, qui could never un-know. Never. No matter how much qui felt it wasn't true, qui knew it was. No matter how much quis heart didn't want to believe it, quis brain was ultimately right. And in quis heart, qui wanted to say "I love you too" and stay here with Tankie forever. But qui knew qui couldn't.

The only question that remained, then, was how to answer, knowing that come tomorrow qui would already be long gone. Come tomorrow, Tankie would be only a memory. Qui would never have the chance for a proper goodbye, so it was probably best to just rip off the bandaid now.

"I'm sorry, Tankie. But I just- can't."

It wasn't very eloquent really. Qui wished qui knew the perfect words to say, just like in the movies. But then again, in the movies, qui would be kissing Tankie right now. In the movies, things wouldn't be messy like this. They would be all wrapped up in a nice little bow with a happy ending for everyone. And qui couldn't do that.

Not a word was spoken between them. Qui couldn't bring quemself to look him in the face; qui didn't want to know the damage qui had done. It was hard. It was one of the hardest fucking decisions qui had made. It wasn't what qui wanted to do, but it was what qui had to do.

After all, Leftisty Unity, just like money, gender, and race, is a social construct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been an honor, comrades. I appreciate everyone's comments and kudos so much, they mean a lot to me (even if i didnt reply to every comment, i read all of them)!! I had a blast writing this bad boy. I've thought about doing a sequel, although I don't want this story to overstay its welcome. For now though, thanks for reading, and I love you guys <3


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